


The Lies That Bind

by Ms_prawo_jazdy



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Adopted Children, Angst, Bajoran Culture, Bajorans, Canon-Typical Violence, Cardassian Anatomy, Cardassian Culture, Cardassian Politics, Cardassians, Character Development, Character development but it's actually melodramatic sometimes, Disabled Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Federation Politics, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Julian is a spoonlicker, M/M, Married Couple, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Partner Betrayal, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Cardassia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Section 31, Smut, Spoonlicker, Switching, plotty plot plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26623981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_prawo_jazdy/pseuds/Ms_prawo_jazdy
Summary: The war is over and Julian and Elim are now married and living on Cardassia Prime desperately trying to create a home in the rubble. The young couple is invited to Earth to be awarded for their part in ending the war. The trip to earth serves several purposes - a honeymoon, a desperately needed respite, and a Starfleet style debrief complete with veiled threats, assassination attempts, and political machinations. Eventually, Garak takes the position of head of the Cardassian government backed by the Federation but an old figure from Cardassia's past begins to manipulate Garak's sense of patriotism and duty for her own ends. Julian watches as his husband falls farther and farther away from him and into the clutches of rhetoric, toxic patriotism, and lies.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 20
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeepRedBells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepRedBells/gifts).



> We couldn't stay away. This is part II of a previous work called "Julian, Debriefed" but it isn't necessary to have read that to enjoy this. 
> 
> Also I may have come up with the punny title - but my twin made me post it.

Garak was surprised at the pleasantly warm but dry air suddenly surrounding him as he stepped out of the transporter. He stood for the first time on the surface of Earth, specifically San Francisco, Federation HQ and Academy. The heat of the sun still radiating from the stones would have made him homesick but home meant something else postwar. Rubble piles and fires burning for days on the horizon meant home now. Piles of stones. Stick-thin victims stalking the streets. Orphaned and wailing children. This was so clean, so grand as to be seemingly immortal. _Just like pre-war Cardassia_ . It made him ache and suddenly feel overwhelmed. He wanted to shake these Starfleet children from their sleep. _Your buildings, infrastructure, your entire culture, and way of life are all built on sand!_

The mourning he carried with him since the near absolute destruction of his homeworld was sharpened against the wet stone of Earth’s effortless and lush beauty. Everywhere he looked life was bursting forth. Every crack and crevice had monstrously huge succulents seemingly pushing apart the rock itself. A cool breeze scented with sea salt danced through the trees and caused a unique hush he had never heard before. And the trees were enormous. The only place like this on Cardassia was the Ba'aten Peninsula jutting out into the small and highly salinated Morfan sea, but it was nothing like this. Creatures sang in the low brush, flower beds, and grasses. Dozens of some kind of small flying insects were flashing yellow in the growing dark.

As if he could read the grief on his face Julian reached out and grasped Garak’s hand lovingly. Julian had learned when Garak needed a distraction from his own thoughts. His warm reassuring touch snapped him back to the planet they were on, instead of the one that didn’t truly exist anymore.

It was night when they arrived at Starfleet headquarters from Cardassia and only a few people milled around the normally busy transporter station. After weeks of travel, the open dark square was welcome. From a nearby bench, a man casually approached the couple from the semidarkness.

“Gentleman,” he said. He seemed like a civilian but there was a hint of something stiff and unnatural about how he moved. He was much too rigid. “Elim Garak, I’m here as a representative of the Federation to welcome you to Earth and congratulate you, in person, on being awarded the Starfleet Medal of Honor.” He reached out and grasped both their hands briefly. “Dr. Bashir, welcome home, and congratulations on your Citation of Conspicuous Gallantry.”

“I remember you, we’ve met before, you’re Luther Sloan,” Julian said in surprise tinged with distrust. He brushed his left ear lobe, one of their agreed-upon signals, alerting Garak to stay on guard. 

He nodded, “Yes, I will be your contact and in charge of your security while you are here for the ceremony. It will be a brief acknowledgment of both of your work ending the war. It seemed appropriate to send me to meet you as it is my agents keeping us in their sights.” Luther motioned up briefly to a black shape on one of the sides of a building. A sniper, presumably one of many, sat perched. 

“Ah, an interesting welcome, my dear,” he turned to Julian, “I’m confused, is this how friends are normally welcomed on Earth?” Julian gave a slight smile, he had no problem letting Elim be Elim, at least in this instance. 

“We take any possible threat to violence against intelligence agents very seriously. We’ve had some noise recently from Cardassian exiles about you and, well, call it an abundance of caution.” He said with a nod and smiled. “Please, follow me.” 

They followed further behind Sloan than was probably necessary but what they had deemed safest nonetheless. Garak couldn’t help but crane his neck around to absorb the new planet as much as possible, looking for all the world like an innocent alien tourist. Garak was drawn to the full moon hanging low in the sky. Cardassia prime obviously had moons as well but their luminosity couldn’t compare to Earth’s bright gray singular celestial mate. Julian pointed out a few interesting sights as they walked through the campus towards a white towering building. Julian recognized it as the plush quarters reserved for visiting dignitaries. When he was a cadet here he had always wanted to see the inside of this building. It was designed to mimic Vulcan architecture but humans hadn’t been able to hide their own aesthetic flare, as usual. The whole thing came off looking more like a strange cathedral only a couple of stories high. 

Sloan led them inside and took them to their quarters for the night deep inside the secure Starfleet building. Two security guards stood at attention at the door and remained completely still as the door slid open. Inside, it was cavernous, especially when compared to their small home on Cardassia, with tall ceilings and a widescreen against the wall that streamed footage of the outdoors. Real windows were too much of a security risk. The lights were set low and the heat was high, almost as if they were thinking of Garak’s comfort first and foremost, but it felt sterile, as temporary homes usually are.

They both had a full day of Starfleet meetings and luncheons beginning tomorrow morning at 0900h. After that, they’d be on their way to Julian’s parent’s home in Dubai at some point. Julian’s parents. The real reason he was putting up with any of this self-important nonsense. The thought of meeting them caused him little anxiety but did bring on protective instincts. They had so badly hurt Julian in so many ways that they could not even comprehend and now Julian would see his father for the first time since his self sacrifice and imprisonment. 

“Computer, do a level three security scan,” Sloan said as he swept into the room and did a final check before leaving them for the night. The computer confirmed that the room was secure. 

“Does Section 31 usually do tuck-ins for a visiting officer?”

“Trust me, doctor, the tuck-in is not for you. Goodnight, Mr. Garak. If you need anything, Lieutenant Donner and Ensign Malcovic will be right outside,” Sloan said, ignoring Julian’s jab as he left. 

“Well that certainly reinforces my confidence in this trip,” Garak said. 

“What do you think so far?” Julian asked.

“You come from a very...blessed planet. It’s the only way I can describe it.”

“I’m sorry that we have to be here, now after...”

“It’s alright, I cannot wait to see it in the daylight. You’ve seen my homeworld and now, I will get to see yours.” He pressed his palm against Julian before continuing. “So, Sloan” 

“Section 31, he was the one who tested my loyalty through that strange holodeck program, he even had you in there.” 

“He’s lying,” Garak nodded, “He has some kind of plan or interest in you.” 

“How did you know that?”

“He worked very hard to disregard you. It made his interest obvious. He overplays, I’d make a better human.” He emphasized the last two sentences, speaking to the undoubtedly bugged residence. “If I was a jealous man…”

“Yes, well, he extended a job offer to me once...a standing invitation to join Section 31.” Julian said softly, settling into a couch across from the fake window. 

“Oh?” Julian noted the hopeful note in his voice and rolled his head to look him in the eyes.

“No, darling, I’m not going to become a spy.” 

“It’s your dream, and you are already so good at it.” Garak faked surprise. Were they having this conversation or still messing with their handlers? 

“When we left Cardassia you were raving about settling down and rebuilding, it was all orphans and orchids - now you want to push me into a career in espionage?” 

“That was the wedded bliss talking,” Garak waved it away before crossing over to the impressive bar, locating the kanar and scotch and pouring one of each. “Silly hormones and brain chemicals, they don’t know what’s good for them.” 

“I think it’s very much the other way around.” Julian quipped back as his husband handed him his drink. 

“Well let’s ask them what they think after a couple of these. Only the best for the honored guests of Starfleet.” They clinked their glasses, lifting them slightly in the universal language of hope for good things to come. 

“I thought we’d never get out of that ship,” Garak whispered while slipping an arm around Julian and sipped his drink. He kissed Julian and tasted the mellow scotch still lingering in his mouth mixed with the sharp Kanar. Julian wasn’t relaxing and melting into his arms as he usually did though, he was stiff and tense. Such a beautiful planet, but Julian seemed more relaxed among the burning wreckage of Cardassia Prime. Garak could almost feel him holding his breath.

“Are you tired my dear?” Garak inquired politely in his Cardassian way, waiting to root out the problem. Julian shook his head no, and looked far off into his glass. “Worried about meeting with your parents?” 

“Terrified, actually, now that you mention it.” He said with a little gasp of relief and a self deprecating laugh.

“I know, but we have all of this relaxing evening to enjoy under armed guard and then a parade of thank yous from powerful old people who mean nothing to us -” 

“God Elim, I don’t know if I can do it.” He dropped his face into his hands.

“Well I assume there will be some sort of nice luncheon before yet another parade of thank yous and yes, then your parents...at some point. We do not need to go rushing over there.” Garak rubbed Julians back and pulled him against his chest. “Or we can just leave. Go spend a week on Risa or just go home to Cardassia. There is no reason to go see them.” Garak’s body nearly throttled itself, another couple moments - let alone weeks- on a transport vessel did not sound appealing, but he said he’d do whatever he needed to do to make Julian happy in his vows and this seemed like one of those moments. 

“Home. I wish we had never left. Ugh but now we’ve come all this way.” Julian moaned into his chest. He pulled away and looked him in the eyes.

“This is a big planet, plenty to see without running into your parents.” 

“They’d find me, they always do.” It was true, they already had. Julian’s communicator had alerted him to two messages when they had reached Earth’s atmosphere - one from his mother welcoming Julian home and another from them both congratulating Julian on his award as well as what will surely be an upcoming promotion. He hadn’t responded. “Why do you think I ran to the other side of the Alpha Quadrant? I can’t get away fast enough, just being on Earth is … overwhelming, a reminder that I’m not… normal, I’m not really human because of them.” 

“You are you, Julian, you always have been and I love the person you are.” 

Julian drained the glass and bowed his head, looking up at Garak through his heavy eyelashes. It was a look Garak knew well.

“I’m excited to show you some of what my planet has to offer. Of course my parents would be living in a desert when we come to visit- but we can go anywhere you like.” 

“Anywhere _you_ like Julian. I don’t mind deserts.I am just happy to be here with you. Let’s get some sleep. I know how shy listening devices can make you.” Julian laughed, taking Elim’s hand. 

“Not as shy as you think.”

__________________________

Earth was far more overwhelming in the daylight. Luckily his doctor/husband had foreseen this very issue. Julian surprised Garak with a pair of sunglasses as soon as they woke - more like goggles, which rested just inside of his face ridges perfectly. He didn’t think he’d need them, he had grown accustomed to the bright lights on DS9 - surely that would be similar lumens to their homeworld, right? Not quite.

Their nighttime arrival had served several purposes - hiding under cover of darkness to throw off possible Obsidian Order hold overs, and not immediately blinding Garak. The Earth sun flooded the planet with a light so intense that it seemed to make everything white and made Garak’s head immediately ache. He clamped his eyes shut tight but could still see the light streaming through his eyelids as he fumbled for the goggles. He got them on and turned to Julian who fought the urge to leap back. 

“How do they look?” 

“Oh. Well. They certainly are...striking.” The goggles were unsettling. Human brains look for faces and this Cardassian seemed to have large black reflective pools where his eyes should be. Julian felt a twinge of ancient fight or flight responses tickle up his spine. He had hoped the goggles would have been complementary and maybe stylish, like sunglasses, but the effect was wholly disquieting. Along with his well-fitted dark purple and gold suit Elim looked fairly sinister. “Great.” Julian sighed. The thought that he had literally created a monster crossed his mind. It wasn’t unusual for aliens visiting Earth to need some sort of assistance with atmospheric pressure or composition or even sunlight - but Cardassians were not regular visitors to Earth. 

“Striking?” A couple of early morning Starfleet students, a Human and a Boliean chatting on their commute, crossed in front of the residence and caught a glimpse of the black eyed Cardassian flanked by two strange looking armed guards and the skinny doctor in dress uniform. The Boliean froze and her face flushed but her human companion snagged her arm and hurriedly got across the square towards the transporter station while making an emergency call to security on her comm. A slow smile curled across his face. “Oh...I like these.” He said, adjusting the glasses to sit more comfortably on his ridges. 

“You’ll only need them until we get inside.” Julian said. He knew full well that the lights and temperature in any building they had planned for Garak to be in would at least approach comfortability for him and he wouldn’t have an excuse to wear the damn things continually. 

"Why was it so dim on DS9, I mean compared to this?" 

"Cardassian lights only went up so high." He smiled at him, "Anyway, it's too damn bright." 

Now Garak could see everything without burning his retinas. Every blade of grass, every petal, every leaf stood out. It was even lusher then he previously had thought. From the top of the stairs, he could see just a crest of blue on the horizon, a different blue from the vivid constant blue of this clear alien sky, lightly speckled with fluffy white clouds.

An ocean. 

Garak knew Earth was more than a quarter water. He’d seen the planet displayed numerous times and heard the stories human friends and Julian would tell, but now it was right there. Cardassia’s ocean was small and the water dark with minerals and salts, reflecting the pinks and oranges of their sky. Julian compared it to something called the Black Sea. But as Garak understood it there was even more water than just in the oceans. Running fresh through streams and rivers and sitting in lakes doting the planet was freshwater, clear, and clean. Water was the recipe for life on this planet and it was everywhere. 

“Julian, is that...?” 

“Ah, San Francisco Bay, on the Pacific Ocean. We’ll go to the beach today, I promise.” Julian was reading yet another message from his parents. They were demanding that he arrive for dinner that very night. Julian dropped the padd back and shook his head, best to just put them out of mind for what was coming next. 

Garak and Julian were both right. The day that followed was a parade of grateful Starfleet officers, and the environmental controls were changed for Garak’s needs in every room they entered. They started off together in a large dimly lit room at a lovely breakfast.The doors opened and the men and women in federation began clapping, some lightly knocking their silverware against crystal and coffee cups. Garak snatched his goggles off his eyes, unable to hide his surprise. Julian patted him on the back to reassure him. 

“What the fu…” Garak started under his breath but Julian stepped up, fitting their hands together, and nodded, smiling at the grateful crowd. Garak melted a step behind him, letting him take on the role of young, charming meat shield. The majority of people there were Starfleet top brass and their partners, human or at least Federation, but out of the faces two Cardassians emerged. Garak couldn’t hide his surprise when the Cardassians approached them from the edge of the crowd. 

“ _Lorhoc çadav-ra edek.”_ {I honor you} The woman uttered, smiling and holding out the palms of her hands in clear deference to Garak. She was older than Garak by maybe a decade. She had her black hair piled high in plaits on her head, studded with small gems and stripped with silver.

“Honor me? Wh- I’m sorry to be rude my dear.” Garak suddenly remembered himself taking her hands and folding them together warmly, in a move that was far more human than Caradassian and left her with a slight surprise on her face. “Who exactly are you?” 

“My name is Lynae-”

“Lynae Dzui?” Garak answered her almost immediately, dropping her hands, she smiled. 

“I guess my fame has preceded me.” She smiled.

“Yes, well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Admiral Dzui.” He gave a polite but stiff and quick nod. It was a subtle movement but the Cardassian body language said ‘ _I politely recognize your position but I don’t particularly wish to speak to you_.’ As was her right as a superior, she ignored him.

“I haven’t been an Admiral since my exile Mr. Garak, it’s just Dzui. I understand that you may have some … incorrect ideas about my ousting from Cardassia-” 

“Oh my opinion about exiles and their crimes changed the day I became one of them. I’m just, surprised to see you here on Earth and-”

“Alive?” Garak dropped his jaw for a moment before he pulled himself back together. Dzui took the opportunity to turn to her much younger companion. “Mr. Garak, Dr. Bashir, please allow me to introduce my son, Charles.”

“Charles?” Garak said, a little surprised. This wasn’t a name for a full-blooded Cardassian obviously but the young man took a breath and shifted uncomfortably, this clearly was not the first time he has had to explain his name.

“Greetings, it is very nice to meet you both.” The young man stepped forward and shook both their hands, he looked familiar for a moment. “As for the name, I have my adoptive father’s name - it’s actually Charles Jr.” 

“We will talk more later Mr. Garak, please enjoy yourselves, and congratulations again.” Dzui said and seemed to slink away with her straight-backed son following three paces behind. Julian and Garak shared a glance which promised they’d speak about this later. 

There were speeches and copious amounts of food. Garak found he couldn’t bear to eat anything so he sent Julian to make a plate of the special Cardassian food that had been prepared so it looked like their kindness was not rejected. All he could think about were the hungry people back home. He knew the universe wasn’t fair, he knew what war did and what it looked like, but he still couldn’t help resentment from settling into the muscles along his jaw. The speeches were all very self-congratulatory and high-minded with plenty of clapping. Garak sat in sullen silence except for the moment Julian’s name was called for him to receive his award. He smiled at him as he shook the Starfleet Admiral’s hand and received his citation. Julian stayed on stage while Garak was called up and awarded his medal. Garak’s plastic smile read beautifully for the small crowd and they clapped even harder when the Admiral congratulated them on their recent marriage. Julian’s face flushed and Garak’s smile became genuine. 

He forgot how adorable Julian was when he was uncomfortable. Garak got the feeling that they were being held up as an example of the future Starfleet wanted - Cardassian and Federation hand in hand. Not really being one for being forced into the position of propaganda, he grasped Julian’s hand and made a hasty exit.

They made it back to their seats, where Julian collapsed and his smile fell away. He seemed unusually stressed after what seemed like a lovely movement out of what was turning out to be a pretty bland morning, aside from the appearance of the infamous Dzui. 

“Great, that is not how I wanted my parents to find out.” 

“WHAT!?” Just then his personal comm alerted him to a message. Undoubtedly his parents whom he asked not to attend the ceremony but had received permission to watch on a secured stream from Starfleet.

“Shhh.” Julian urged. 

“What the hell do you mean? You said you told them. Julian, we've been married for 6 months now,” Garak said in an even tone through clenched teeth, his plastic smile still tacked onto his face trying to hide his confusion.

“I know, I know, but you don’t know them like I do. I kept waiting for the right time and it...never...presented itself and time just kept slipping away. We aren’t close, it’s not like they are really part of my life.” Garak glared at him, the _stupid_ medal hanging heavy around his neck, a pale icy blue ran through the ribbon which matched his angry and clearly hurt eyes perfectly. Garak pulled it up over his head and dropped it into his bag. “I’m sorry Elim, it’s a lousy thing to do to you. I guess I’m not strong enough to face them without you.” Garak softened, his anger faded by his desire to always help and protect his mate. 

Julian’s comm chirped again and he rolled his eyes. 

“Listen, I want to walk on the beach with you, I’ve got something I really want to show you.” Julian was kicking himself for potentially ruining this trip through his...omission of the truth. “This is a vacation for us, a honeymoon. I’m not going to jump at their commands. I’ll talk to them tomorrow, with you, and we will see what the best plan is after that.” 

The end of the debacle came swiftly after they had been awarded their trinkets. Some Starfleet brass came to collect Garak for a special debrief while Julian went on his way to meet up with an old friend. Garak’s guards stayed close by. He wasn’t sure if they were guarding him or keeping a close eye on him. 

Garak entered the meeting room where he was surprised to see Dzui speaking with Min Zife, the Bolian currently serving as the President of the Federation plus several other admiral and captain level officers. The doors shut behind him with a whisper and Garak had the feeling of being trapped. 

“Mr. Garak, welcome and congratulations again. It is an honor to meet the man who ended the war with the Dominion.” Zife said, motioning for him to take a seat across from him at the other end of the conference table. Garak gave a polite bow and took a seat.

“We’d like to have a discussion with you about Cardassia, present and future.” The Starfleet officer to Zife’s right said with a nod. Garak’s eyes flicked to Dzui and then back to Zife. 

“Can you give us some idea of the situation on the ground there?” 

“Absolute devastation. Infrastructure is non-existent, pandemics are rampant without proper medical facilities. People are starving in the streets. But you already know all this…” 

“We were more interested in the political situation,” an Admiral in yellow said. Garak couldn’t suppress a slight laugh. _Political situation?_

“There really isn’t one, many members of Central Command are dead and the few that escaped execution by the Dominion are in hiding lest they meet the same fate at the hands of my fellow wronged Cardassians.”

“Garak, we want to help Cardassia.” Zife said, opening his hands, palms up, on the table. Garak looked at him confused.

“Then help. There is no one to stop you. Send food, send medical supplies - send replicators, generators, doctors-- basic needs.” 

“Governance is also required for any rebuilding effort to make any aid truly useful. Distribution of supplies, directing rebuilding efforts-” Another officer suggested while motioning to Garak. 

“We know that you have already taken a leading role in these areas, Garak. We want you to know that you have the Federation's support,” Garak’s soul sank when he realized what Zife was saying. 

“I did not help the Federation end the war for the sake of the Federation or for any personal political gain. I did it to save lives.” _One life in particular_ his conscience niggled, he swatted it away _._ “And in the process I betrayed my people, destroyed my own civilization, I may be the biggest monster in Cardassian history - how can you suggest that I now lead them?” 

“You already are,” Dzui interjected. “The capital is breathing back to life, largely due to your direction, your leadership.” Garak snapped his head to Dzui, finally having been addressed directly by her, he could speak freely. 

“Someone must. Why have you not returned to Cardassia? The Obsidian Order is in shambles, Central Command is nonexistent and we need help. You were a leader, or were you truly exiled for being a traitor to Cardassia?” A smirk came across her face as he asked the question. 

“A traitor. To the glorious state? The same state that subjected itself to the Dominion? Garak, do not think you destroyed Cardassia, you are not so great and powerful. Cardassia destroyed Cardassia, it had been eating itself alive for generations. Your exile was a symptom of that as much as mine was. I was exiled, one of their most talented tacticians from a good family, because I fell in love--with a human--and left my marriage.” She nodded at him, sympathetically.

_But Charles was a Cardassian_. The familiarity suddenly struck him. 

“Your marriage to Gul Dukat.” Charles must have been the result of their marriage … or Dukat’s brutal brand of punishment reserved for traitors, and women. The boy was a reminder of what she had endured and what she had lost. Garak’s heart suddenly ached for her. She had still done her duty as a Cardassian woman and reared a Cardassian child but without the traditional support of her community and family. Dzui was right. If so much cruelty is tolerated in a society, then the rot must be thorough. 

“I cannot return to Cardassia. I have explored the option and it isn’t safe for me. My exile was very high profile and I may be recognized. The story Central Command spun, that I had murdered my men in cold blood and defected, is too much.” Her eyes looked far off and hard. Garak was struck by the cool hazel of her eyes framed by pale gray delicate skin. She was quite beautiful but she had forgotten after years of living with the Federation how to properly lie. 

“There is no one left to get you. No one upholding the old guard. My expulsion was just as public and far more recent-”

“Garak, why do you think you have guards here? There are people who know your role in the war, your enemies are displaced and unorganized but they won’t be for long.” Another woman said, she was dressed in plain black, the same kind of uniform that Sloan had been wearing. 

“So,” Zife interjected, raping the palms of his hands on the table, trying to reign in control of the meeting. “We need someone to funnel aid to Cardassia, someone that we trust to distribute it in the most efficient, ethical, and responsible way possible. That person also needs something additional from us - protection.” 

“And-” Garak nodded, “If that person was sympathetic to the Federation all the better. They would eventually be in a position of power on a grateful Cardassia, ripe for Federation membership.” 

“Well you did marry a decorated Lieutenant, your feelings for the Federation are far more open minded than... most Cardassians.” Dzui observed bitterly. For all her adopted humanness he could tell Dzui bristle at the prospect of a Federation Cardassia. He only had to glance at her to realize she did want to go home, more than anything, and wanted to take the reins of a new political order. Starfleet had made a different decision, one that she felt bound to honor-for now. Was she here as an advisor- or a back up plan? Her ambition seemed just as dangerous as Starfleet’s. 

“Well, gathered esteemed, I think there just may be a bit of room here for negotiation and discussion,” Garak said. Dzui seemed unconvinced, but seemed determined to play a good host in front of her Starfleet handlers. 

They proceed to lay out, in detail, Starfleet’s plans for Cardassia. Weather modification systems, soil reclamation projects, security protocols, and a fleet of massive industrial-sized replicators in every population center. A dazzling array of supplies and aid. It was clear this plan had been in the works since before Cardassia’s defeat in the Dominion wars. As they ran through their objectives Garak could feel Dzui intently studying his every reaction. He did his best to mask his object disgust as they lightly skipped over how deep their diplomatic tendrils would inevitably worm their way into this new dream society of theirs. He wouldn’t go so far as to say they were looking to establish a puppet government, but it was much more invasive than the aid Bajor received not 8 years earlier. It seems there was still a price to be paid by the survivors of Cardassia’s disastrous decisions after all. 

“Well, I am...speechless. I can certainly see why you’d want a Cardassian face for such an ambitious enterprise,” Garak said, rising slowly from the table. They had been there for hours, and his old war wound was acting up again. “I will consider your proposition carefully I assure you.”

“Not too long, Mr. Garak. Cardassia can’t afford to wait. I understand, you’re a proud people bu-”

“You understand correctly, sir, if you will excuse me,” Garak said curtly. He nodded to Dzui and made a quick exit, walking briskly into the corridor while his duo of bodyguards trailed a few steps behind. 

“Garak!” he heard Dzui call out moments later. He stopped and turned around as she slipped in between the guards. “You have some nerve…”

“Madam, I am on my very last nerve. If you find their offer appealing, by all means, make the most of it. But I won’t be a party to a second wholesale destruction of Cardassia at the hands of the Federation.” 

“Everything is negotiable, Garak, but you have to be at the table. Or did they not teach that to you at Bamarren?” she said. 

“You know, I never finished school. And they don’t have much use for negotiation in the Obsidian Order,” he hissed. “Both institutions are in rubble now, so I suppose I never will learn.”

“You’re being impertinent. I guess the rumors are true, that you were more skilled with...gardening than diplomacy,” she let the true meaning of her words hang in the air.

“Tailor, madam. I was a tailor,” he said with a bitter laugh. “Though these days I spend my time assisting my husband as he treats starving Cardassian children with vanishingly few supplies.”

“You’re a details man. I need you to look at this bigger picture: If we work together, Garak, we can save Cardassia. We just need the right tool,” she said as she eyed the two security agents. She leaned forward, resting a hand on his chest in a surprisingly familiar way. She breathed slightly into his ear before speaking in a low liquid tone that sent an unexpected shiver down Garak’s spine. “Use the tool correctly, and we can save Cardassia on our terms. I’ll be in touch,” she said. She looked him dead in the eye before sliding her own thick black goggles down her face and walking towards a door on the far end of the hallway. Garak stood frozen for a moment. He wondered if the tool she was speaking of was the Federation, or himself, before making his own exit under the white hot light of Earth’s star.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian enjoys a pint before being pounced on, yet again, by section 31 pushing their case for Garak to accept Federation assistance in installing him as Cardassia's next leader. Garak and Julian finally get some time alone to see one of the wonders of Earth and splash in the Pacific ocean ... but it turns out it isn't REAL alone time. After giving their handlers the slip they find themselves in a seedy hotel room designed just for the kind of illicit tryst they are after.

The campus bar was an odd building. It was a leftover from old San Francisco; a squat pink structure with rounded sides that was towered over by the dramatic gleaming white angles and eyeless black windows of the academic buildings and propulsion engineering labs. No one knows why it was saved or why it continues to exist beside the complete outrage that would be produced by countless officers from a dozen planets should it ever be replaced. The strange little bar had been the center of social life at the academy ever since it was founded. Inside the bar sat in the center of the oval, with several bartenders working every side serving real booze alongside the synthetic stuff and simple meals from the replicator or the grill. It was still charmingly called Pat’s! With a buzzing orange old neon sign above the entrance declaring the name or a proprietor long, long since dead and forgotten.

It was always filled with people, whether it was second shift recruits just getting off work, harangue students holding court over a crowd of half-empty coffee cups, or exhausted professors in crumpled suits. It was a member of this last tribe that Julian was looking for as he strode across the black and white checkered tile floor towards the bar. There with his head bowed at the end of a bar that glittered with red and white formica chips under yellowing resin, was his old friend, who he hadn’t seen since his wedding on Bajor. 

“Professor Miles O’Brien!” Julian shouted. Miles jumped from his reverie and immediately looked relieved. 

“Christ, don’t do that to me. I was afraid you were one of my damned students. Well, come here why don’t you!” O’Brien wrapped Julian in a warm embrace and patted his back. 

“That bad?” Julian asked as he pulled away.

“Oh, Julian. I’m not going to start bellyaching as soon as I see you for the first time in six months! But...it’s like none of these kids have ever gotten their hands dirty in their life!” Miles said, offering the empty stool next to him. With so many patrons it was up to a robotic bartender to slide by on rails and take Julian’s order. He sadly entered an order of a pint of real Anchor Steam on its touchpad. It spit out an order number and an approximate wait time of three minutes.

“Almost makes me miss the personal touch of Quark’s.”

“I’m starting to miss a lot of things about DS9. Who thought I’d ever considered that rotating garbage fire the good ol’  _ simple _ days. Can’t argue with the view though,” Miles waved his hand towards a widow, barely visible through grease and dust was the bay.

“Are you living on campus?”

“Oh no, I teleport home to Kanuma in the Ochigi prefecture every night. Lovely little mountain town where Kieko grew up. How’s...your living situation?” Miles instantly regretted asking as Julian tensed up a little just at the mention. Luckily his beer arrived and it gave him a few moments to measure out a response. 

“It’s...very hard. I would never tell Elim this, but sometimes I wonder if it is all...worth it.”

“What? Helping people?”

“No, of course, that’s worth it. I mean trying to save Cardassia. It’s completely decimated, with few resources. From a Starfleet perspective, it would be easier to transport the entire population to a more habitable planet. There are only a few million left, we could do it in a few months. At least, it would be easier to support their lives but I don’t think they’d easily give up on their homeworld.”

“Would you?”

“Probably not,” he admitted and drank deeply. Real beer. He hadn’t had a real beer in...he couldn’t remember how long. “It’ll be years before it’s anywhere close to stable.”

They moved on to happier talk, about Yoshi and Molly and how they were liking being back on a real planet again. Miles had made Molly a Cardassian doll, which she had named Mr. Garak and carried with her everywhere when they first got home, but she was quickly growing out of such toys. Still, stuffed Garak held a place of honor on her bookshelf. Julian began discussing the problem with his parents and Miles immediately canceled his Fluid Dynamics class from his PADD, even though he’d have to face happy engineering students suddenly spilling into the bar on their suddenly free afternoon and see him getting sauced with one of the heroes of the Dominion war. But it wasn’t a student that eventually interrupted them. 

“Julian, you screwed up big time. Elim has every right to be pissed at you. I mean, are you ashamed of him?” Miles asked as he grasped his recently refreshed drink.

“What? Oh god, no. It’s just that dealing with them has just been a series of difficult conversations since I was young.”

“I know I’d feel like hell if Molly got married in secret. If she couldn’t tell me about the most important person in her life.” 

“I didn’t do it to hurt them, I just honestly didn’t want them involved. I didn’t want yet another difficult conversation to ruin yet another happy day.”

“And what about all the days after that happy day? Do your parents even know you are living on Cardassia? You’re definitely going to have to find a way to make up for this to Elim...If I was you I’d-”

“Professor O’Brien, Doctor Bashir,” Sloan announced his presence as they huddled over their third round of beers. Julian sneered in annoyance while Miles turned around surprised to face him. 

“Oh. Uh…” Miles stammered when he saw Sloan, looking back and forth between him and Julian. 

“Hello, Chief,” Sloan nodded a perfunctory greeting and immediately turned to Julian “I was wondering if I could take up a few moments of your time, doctor.” 

“Well,  _ Professor  _ O’Brien and I-.”

“Listen, Julian,” O’Brien started pulling himself together quickly. “I should head home anyway. Yoshi will be getting home from school any minute now…” he said, gathering up a stack of PADDs from the bar. “Come by and have dinner with Keiko and I before you head back yeah?

“Sure Miles, okay,” Julian stood up and hugged O’Brien goodbye. Sloan watched O’Brien walk out before he said anything. 

“You really know how to clear a room, don’t you Sloan.” 

“Let’s take a walk.” 

Julian’s head swam a bit from the real alcohol as he stood up. He last had real liquor at his wedding. It was a wildly rare luxury on Cardassia, though he had drunk enough for two lifetimes during the war, he was clearly a little out of practice. Being a little underweight from their meager lifestyle and relentless work didn’t help. At least Sloan was moving at the speed of a meander. The sun was momentary dazzling as it beat down on the green and friendly grounds of the Academy. Sloan was moving back towards the governmental buildings along a wide path lined with oaks. Here the crowds thinned out to nearly nothing.

“Doctor, may I extend my personal thanks to you. My son and daughter are Starfleet. Ending the war likely saved their lives."

"And these are children who... actually exist this time?"

“Yes, these are children who exist,” he said with a smile. “Incredible kids, an ensign on a research class vessel and well, my daughter is following in my footsteps. Nothing like the pride children can give you. You’re newly married, have you thought about building a family at all?”

“I… that is not really any of your business. Drop the friendly discussion routine, Sloan. What do you really want to talk about?” Julian asked incredulously.

“I’m talking about the future. Your future and Garak’s,” Sloan said. “Do you see a future, on Cardassia?” The question hung between them as Julian searched for the words. 

“I’d like there to be,” he admitted. 

“It seems quite the uphill struggle, however. You’re a science officer with an augmented brain, what would you say is Cardassia’s current likelihood of success?” Sloan asked. “I’m curious if your number is close to ours.” 

“...Come on, Sloan.” he rolled his head.

“Eight percent,” he stated flatly. Julian jerked his head up surprised. 

“That is... quite optimistic.”

“We are nothing if not optimists in the Federation,” he smiled. The two reached an overlook of a fountain devoted to peace made of several interlocking cubes towering 20 feet into the air. Sloan leaned on a railing and watched the scattering of water over the silver angles. 

“I try not to calculate the odds. And if I do...when I do, I don’t tell them to Elim,” Julian said quietly.

“He knows them. Well, he knows them by now,” Sloan said looking at his antique wristwatch.

“What do you mean?”

“Right now, the Federation is extending an offer to Garak to coordinate Federation relief of Cardassia and, with our support, take control of the political situation there as well. It is imperative that he accept this role, and I don’t think I need to tell you why.”

“But he’s obviously not going to take it. He doesn’t trust any of you.”

“I know. That’s why you have got to talk him into it.”

“You want me to do your dirty work, manipulate my husband for-”

“Do you really think either of you will be able to return to Cardassia without our continuous protection? Cardassians are relentless in their search for revenge, and they are skilled killers, two things you’ve experienced first hand how many times now? Honestly, it’s some kind of miracle that you haven’t been attacked yet. You’re a smart man, Doctor Bashir. Without our help, what does Cardassia look like? What does your future look like?” Sloan asked. Julian’s communicator chirped as if to answer him--it was Garak. 

“I have to go.” 

The sun was getting low in the sky. Garak had walked and walked, trying to calm down while escaping the oppressive Starfleet presence that seemed to bear down on all sides. He walked until he finally reached a beach. He sat on a low cement wall and slipped off his shoes, digging his feet into the still-warm sand. Beyond the yellow-white dunes was the slate blue churning ocean capped with white peaks in the distance. It was more water than Garak had ever seen on Cardassia. It stretched endlessly towards a sky now ribboned with vibrant reds and pinks by the single setting sun. A few stragglers were still packing up their towels and umbrellas, but the place was mostly empty. And besides, who is going to screw with the Cardassian with the large black reflector eyes gazing motionless at the sea? 

Not that anyone seemed particularly hostile. Even after the war, these people were all perfectly pleasant to him. Of course, they still had their planet. Garak had seen the way some Cardassians looked at Julian with hate in their eyes, even as he worked to save them. Julian pretended not to notice and never mentioned the animosity all around him. Julian was strong, stronger than himself, or anyone else he had ever known. His chest warmed at the thought of his husband even as a cool breeze off the water sent a chill down the beach.

He was suddenly reminded of the way Major Kira had looked at him, a member of her oppressor’s race, with a kind of almost madness behind her eyes. He understood that madness better every moment he was on Earth. It was a fury barely held back by the niceties of their more civilized surroundings. It was more than just jealousy, a feral feeling that had grown the longer he lived in rubble and surrounded by death. He had just sat in a room where some of the authors of Cardassia’s destruction attempted to tell him how to rebuild in a way that most benefited them. The bile rose in his throat.  _ Criminals _ . 

He unclenched his jaw and focused on the hushing roar of trillions of gallons of water smashing against the shore. He tried to fade into the background and become as still and fluid as the warm sand. He was perfectly focused and still by the time Julian found him. 

“I don’t think you need those anymore,” Julian said from just behind Garak. He sat down next to him and slid the light blocking goggles from his face. He held Garak’s cheek in his hand for a moment as the goggles fell around Garak’s neck and kissed him. 

“I hadn’t noticed the sun was almost set.”

“You seemed a little lost in the moment,” he intertwined his hand with Garak’s. “How was your day?” 

“Hard. You know, I no longer enjoy being just another isolinear chip in the grand computer as much as when I was younger.”

“Well, come on, let’s go for a walk and you can tell me about it,” Julian took his own shoes off and rolled up the cuffs. The sun was almost gone, and the sky was deep purple while the city sparkled behind them. They padded through the sand to the water’s edge. While Garak hung back, Julian waded into the surf until the water rolled above his ankles. Garak’s eyes picked up a bright glint immediately, just a spot at first but the more Julian dragged his feet through the water the more the blue light bloomed around him. The light spot grew as the waves crashed. With the dark expansive of powerful black nothingness behind him and this mysterious halo around him, Julian was truly radiant, otherworldly. His focus closed in around them and he got the distinct feeling that they were the only people on the planet.

Garak hadn’t realized he had gasped and was holding his breath. 

“This is what I wanted to show you.” He gestured around him as if it were a normal occurrence. “I’m glad we are here at the right time of year.” He kicked the water and it lit up bright white blue against the now black sky in a messy arc. “They’re called dinoflagellates, a type of algae - this species is  noticulla.” 

“The light is alive?” Garak walked to the edge and scooped up the water in his hand. A small galaxy seemed to appear but he let out a little yelp as the cold shot straight to his bones. The water splashed dramatically, sending small diamonds of light out across the sand, soon to be reunited with a rolling blue glow of the waves. 

Julian’s laugh reached him over the roar of the ocean as he ran up to Garak. The light sprung to life dramatically around his feet with each joyful splashing bound through the surf. Julian immediately took Garak’s hands into his own, cupping his smaller hands as best as he could around him and huffing warm breath sending pinpricks of pain to shoot through the numbed flesh. His body warmth was white-hot and Garak nearly pulled away but the warmth switched quickly from painful to comfortable to heavenly. 

“Sorry darling, it’s very cold, only about 10 degrees celsius or so. I should have warned you.” He rubbed the cold hands vigorously and continued breath on them.

“Algae?” Garak could feel the day melting away.  _ Tell me all about it, my love, my rock, my warm harbor. _

“Um, I guess there is no Cardassian word for it, they are tiny individual plants that live in the water and in great numbers under specific circumstances. They produce light through a chemical reaction and produce more light when they are disturbed.” The crest of each wave was gilded with light and crashed brilliantly on the beach, Julian was illuminated in the beautiful blue glow. He had that sweet face he pulled when reading from the fact sheets in his brain, avoiding eye contact, but clearly excited to share his knowledge.  _ Pure Jules.  _

Garak lifted Julian’s chin with the side of his finger, locking eyes. He pulled one hand away out of Julian’s grasp and slid it to the back of his neck, pressing his fingertips into his hair. Cool leathery hands spread across the back of Julian’s warm neck and made his eyes roll with pleasure. They kissed just as the stars began to peek out between the blinking of ships streaking across the sky. His warm arms wrapped around Garak’s neck. They stood there for a while before Garak became aware of being watched. He uncoiled his focus from Julian and looked over to see four security personnel standing on the beach. One of them was holding Julian’s shoes.

“Ahh, Julian,” Garak ran his hands down Julian’s body before the moment was totally ruined.  _ Damn security goons.  _

“Oh. Uh…” Julian blushed. Even his hands were burning as he took Garak’s and squeezed it. “How about we get something to eat and head back.”

They both put off the unpleasantness of the day to try and spend a real night off. No hospital tent to be at first thing in the morning, no high-pressure Starfleet meetings. Just them...and their security team. 

Garak stalked up to the young blonde human woman holding Julian’s shoes and snatched them from her. 

“A little discretion? Hm?” He rhetorically demanded. “Just because Sloan isn’t here to hold your hands and keep you in line doesn’t mean you are to...huddle around us. I don’t want to see evidence of any of your existence. Go be _intelligent_ agents and disappear!” Garak was giving orders again. Though yelling at inept Starfleet agents was satisfying and much more of a treat than an authority exercise. The black-clad agents begrudgingly began to disperse with the type of energy often seen in petulant children. 

They walked together into Old Town towards a seafood restaurant of some kind. Julian promised him their feet would lead them where they needed to be and soon they were walking over cobblestone and into the front of a small dark restaurant where they were bustled into a quiet, warm, corner. Garak joked about sitting with his back to the door and Julian nervously insisted on switching their seats, glancing over his shoulder before they settled. Julian could see one of their assigned guards behind Garak on the street, just a sliver of an agent out of the corner of his eye. He flicked his eyes to where the guard was with a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment. 

Julian flipped the screen on the table and quickly entered in an order and tapped it away. A bottle of wine and a plate of cooked buttery mussels were soon put before them and they were left seemingly alone for a romantic and intimate dinner. Now, this was more like a real honeymoon, a real break from the tedium and horror or their lives back home. Garak reflexively scanned the room anyway. He didn’t feel much better with Julian’s back to the door. 

“You alright?” Julian asked as he poured the wine. 

“Today was trying.”

“Tell me about it…” Julian said, more as a statement than a question.

“I’m not sure if I’m prepared to ruin this pleasant evening any further with galaxy politics.”

“Well if politics doesn’t ruin it, family will,” Julian smiled. His communicator was pinging again. He shoved it into his pocket. Julian dove into the mussels. “Miles says hello, of course. He invited us over at some point while we are on world.”

“Wonderful” Garak smiled.

“And then...Sloan, came to see me today,” Julian said. If Garak wasn’t going to bring it up, he would, though he immediately regretted it. 

“Did he,” Garak’s eyes were wide and unblinking. Julian could practically hear the pieces falling into place for his husband. 

“It’s not important, not tonight.”

“What did he have to say?” Garak asked. He slipped his hand over Julian’s, but his face wore his trademark false smile. Julian saw right through his mask, as always. 

“He told me about the offer.”

“Ah, the offer.”

“They could find worse people to save Cardassia, Elim.”

“You have no idea. And what did Sloan tell you about the offer?”

“Not much, I’ll admit,” Julian said it as casually as possible, but he could see Garak’s skin flush in anger. “What did they offer you?”

“I’m not taking it. Starfleet wants me to sell out my people in exchange for their salvation,” Garak’s wide blue eyes surveyed his mate’s face as he sipped his wine. It was another human drink that wasn’t half bad. Especially the dry stuff. He wasn’t interested in the wine, however. He was imagining how satisfying it would be to punch Sloan in his sallow, sanctimonious face. The Federation must be really desperate to take this chance. They had to know Julian would tell him and know that meddling in his family would deeply offend his Cardassian sensibilities. As if on cue, Garak’s own communicator chirped. Julian looked at him surprised. Garak opened it and saw a message from Dzui. 

“Who is calling you here?”

“That Cardassian Admiral. Dzui. She wants to talk to me about the same thing,” he dropped his voice, “At least I think.”

“What else would she talk to you about?”

“Oh nothing…”

“Hmm, If I were a jealous man,” Julian mimicked him from last night with a smile, trying to lighten the mood, but Garak seemed surprised by what he meant as a joke. “Who is she?”

“She was legendary on Cardassia. They taught her strategies in schools when she was only in her 20s. Then she was scrubbed from our public records and never mentioned again. There were rumors, of course...that she had fallen in love with a human for instance.”

“Ah...that could get you exiled?”

“Or worse, depending on your place in society, yes,” he said with a shrug. 

“Ok. Ridiculous question I suppose at this point but...you always wanted to go home. You were desperate to do so...why did you still want me?”

“I couldn’t help it,  _ my heart _ ,” Garak said, softening his anger. “My people took everything from me. You gave it back. It’s what makes me such a bad Cardassian - sentiment; I always will choose you over Cardassia. Over anything.”  _ I already have...so many times.  _

His own comm chirped again and Julian’s smile dropped. 

“Are we going to get any peace?!” Julian moaned. He grabbed both communicators and tossed them into the potted plant besides Garak. “Let's see if we can get some real-time together.” Julian stood up, “I’m going to pretend to go to the loo, meet me back there in 3 minutes.” 

Julian went into the bathroom and waited. Shortly, Garak joined him, already sliding off his garish jacket and turning it inside out. Julian smiled. He knew his husband. He knew that Garak never lost his extreme paranoia. While he liked to dress well, every suit he wore was also optimized for getting lost in a crowd. His gold and purple jacket was transformed into a black suit jacket, complete with concealed lapels which completely transformed the garment. Garak pulled a simple black scarf out from the inside pocket and wrapped it around his own neck. Garak tossed Julian the now black jacket to cover up his federation uniform. Julian slipped it on and began to roll up the sleeves as Garak smoothly walked backward out the door, motioning for Julian to follow him through to the kitchen. 

The kitchen was hot and busy, bustling with people preparing mountains of real food. Their presence was mostly ignored. Julian loved the way Garak could move through any situation like he was simply meant to be there. Before walking out of the back, Garak grabbed a dark gray wool toque off of a hook and pulled it down onto his own head.

They slid out into the night. Fog had settled into the streets of San Francisco, and the cold damp air sent shoots through Garak’s skin and directly in his bones, especially in his hands and bum leg. Julian pressed his warm hand into his and pulled him down the dark alleyway, away from the front of the restaurant.

Garak became aware of the guard on the rooftop next door. He paused, pulling Julian against him in a dark, deep, doorway. It wouldn’t be long before Sloan’s men realized they were gone, every second counted. They were guaranteed to be back here, but hopefully their disappearance had been quick enough, and the guards inept enough, that no one had been alerted yet. As if on cue they heard fast footsteps not terribly far behind them, rushing up fast. The rooftop guard was looking for them. Garak gently pressed Julian further into the dark doorway and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Shhh,” Garak hushed. He focused on fading into the background, as unfamiliar as it was. Julian merely held his breath. He knew about Garak’s strategy but didn’t necessarily understand it. Whoever had been pursuing them ran past on the rooftop and left their post, probably to come help with the search. The two stayed frozen for a few moments, Julian bleeding delicious heat into Garak, before they broke their embrace and quietly walked back towards the crowds streaming down Market Street, restraining the urge to break out into a run. It was all so smooth as if they had planned it. Garak shoved his hands into his pockets and arched his shoulders. Anything to cut down on the amount of gray skin that could be spotted by cameras. Plus it helped with the damn cold.

“I think I know a place we can go...it’s not exactly comfortable, I’m afraid. But it’s warm and definitely not filled with Starfleet. None who will admit to being there, anyway.” 

“That’s fine, but we’ll need to get off the main streets soon. They’ll be looking for us in surveillance and I’m afraid I don’t exactly blend in here,” Garak nervously looked up while pulling his pilfered toque down. Julian ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to remember which direction to take.

“This way,” Julian sharply pulled Garak down yet another black alley. Garak felt his way along the sharp angles and uneven brickwork of the side street as Julian expertly led the way. Garak could tell this must have been a poorer area of San Francisco before Earth became its current paradise. The tightness of the quarters and the meandering lines on the streets and alleys remind him of the carelessness that the servant class survived every day on Cardassia. They suddenly turned left out of the shadows to see a five-story brick building flanked by a dark repair shop and some dimly lit apartments. The shabby establishment bore no name, but it did have a glowing orange neon sign in the ground floor window reading ‘Vacancy.’ 

“Let me do the talking. You’re a little...well obvious,” Julian laughed and made a hand motion indicating...everything. His eyes shined with the thrill of evading capture as he pushed open the door. They walked into a small entrance filled with ornate but cheap-looking faded furniture. The walls were yellow, either on purpose or due to age, and were fashioned to look rather unconvincingly like a stone. A large, dingy yellow-orange light buzzed lazily above their heads. Julian tapped the bell on the front desk, waking up the nodding woman behind the counter. 

“Hellloooo,” she sleepily replied. “Welcome. How many hours will you need the room,” she asked without even looking up at Julian, turning around a digital display. Garak turned his back to the woman while he worked on getting feeling back into his hands. 

“Oh, we’ll take it for...four hours?” Julian said. “Yes, that will do.”

“Okay,” she shrugged and tapped the display, showing Julian where he could put his thumbprint for an identity check.

“Uhhh do you still…”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” she lifted up her own hand, showing the tip of her own thumb was glowing down to the first knuckle. It flashed several times before she stuck it down on the screen, a curling signature of an unfamiliar name dotted with hearts flashing quickly into the space and then vanished. “Room 308, up the stairs, turn right at the big window. It’ll be on your left.” She slid an old timey card with a magnetic strip onto the desk and promptly forgot about them. Julian slipped his hand onto Garak’s arm and led him up the stairs before she could notice the Cardassian trying to act casual in her rundown hotel’s lobby.

“What  _ is _ this tacky little place?”

“It’s a hotel, of sorts. A less, reputable one than what you may be accustomed to...”

“That rents by the hour? Is that common on Earth? And you don’t need to actually sign in?” he asked, a smile growing on his face. All the signs pointed to a delightful seediness. “ _ Julian _ , how do you even  _ know  _ about this place?” He asked, his voice tinged with scandal.

“Oh wipe that tawdry smile off your face please,” Julian said, feigning offense through a widening grinning. He jumped every other marble stair to reach the third floor landing. The stone was worn down by centuries of users. “I have rescued friends from here a few times. And...had a single date,  _ once _ , end up here just after graduation and neither of us had cadet quarters any longer. It’s a place where we too-good kids got our dirty little thrills in secret.”

“Ohh?” Garak practically purred. Now that they were in this tiny hidden place he couldn’t hide his excitement. It had all happened so fast, but nothing got his blood pumping like a thrilling slow-speed chase with his dashing and daring husband. His heart was beating wildly now not out of the thrill of escape but from a rush of lust. Running from secret agents was just as good as a rousing intellectual argument for foreplay - maybe even better. 

“Humans are still well... humans. We still make bad decisions based on hormones and the... heat of the moment,” Julian said as they reached the door. He turned and saw a familiar look on Garak’s face and felt his own face flush, somehow Garak’s brand of naked desire, reserved only for him, continued to have this dramatic effect on him. Garak could still shake him to his core with just a glance. “This place understands a need for...discretion.” Garak just hummed in response as Julian used the card to swing the door to the dark room open. 

They didn’t bother turning on any light, the semi-sheer curtains let in enough of the ambient light of the city to create a kind of moonlight. A bed fitted with a replicator that automatically produced and destroyed its sheet after each use confirmed the sleazy hotel ambiance. Garak took Julian’s hand and pulled him into his arms, kissing him deep. He pushed the black jacket off of Julian’s shoulders before shoving him up against the wall. He could already feel Julian half hard against him and he reached a hand between them to pull open his pants roughly.

“I love it when you are devious,” Garak growled into Julian’s neck and felt the uniquely human excitement response of goosebumps blossom across his skin. Julian seemed to flood Garak’s senses. “You are usually such a good boy.” Garak growled low again and kissed him in the hollow behind his ear and jaw, relishing his husband’s racing heartbeat under the delicate skin. He nipped at Julian’s shoulders and kissed along his collarbone to his clavicle, where the  _ chula  _ would’ve been located on a Cardassian mate. Julian gripped his neck ridges rubbing the sensitive scales between his thumb and forefinger. When Garak stood up straight, Julian landed a passionate bite. 

Garak could feel his control slipping away. His own heat had been building and now he was fully everted, dripping and aching. Every gasp and moan that escaped Julian stoked Garak’s desire and he wanted more. He freed Julian’s now throbbing cock and teased the head, rolling a bead of precum around the tip. The familiar electricity of their intimacy filled the room as their masks fell away. Julian dropped his forehead against Garak’s  _ chufa _ , his eyes half-lidded while he moved his cock desperately against Garak’s hand. 

“Fuck me.” Julian whispered into the dark space between them. Garak couldn’t help but catch his breath at the command. He lifted Julian off of his feet and carried him to the bed, tossing him carelessly onto his back. Garak shed the last of his own clothing, and drank in the sight of his graceful and aroused lover sprawled on the strange bed. He lifted Julian’s knees and spread him open, settling his prUt just against the entrance of Julian’s body. 

“Fuck me, take me, please…” Julian begged in a husky voice. He took his own cock in hand and spread his legs even further as if Garak needed more enticement. He entered him in one fluid motion and Julian let out an uninhibited cry driving Garak into a frenzy. He fucked Julian hard into the mattress, one hand holding himself up and another working Julian’s cock. 

“Open your eyes, my love.” Garak urged. Cardassians had sex with eye contact, anything else was disrespectful to your partner, but Julian had a tendency to clamp his eyes shut, especially when approaching orgasm. Julian had nearly trained himself out of the habit, he hadn’t shut his eyes like this since they had moved to Cardassia Prime. Julian complied and when they locked eyes he knew he was going to cum. He plunged as deep as he could and let the wave of the contract and release of Julian’s tight muscles around his  _ irllun  _ push him over the edge. 

It took a few moments for them to untangle from one another. Julian had wrapped his legs around Garak’s body, holding him inside of him with his heels and didn’t seem interested in letting him go as he continued to ride the last few waves of orgsam. Not much anyone can do about refractory periods however and Garak’s prUt eventually retracted in spite of himself. They both got up and used the sonic shower together, still completely in the dark as if it were an extra layer of secrecy, kissing and holding one another until they returned to bed. 

Julian fell across Garak’s chest and kissed and licked his  _ chula _ until Garak moaned and moved his lips up to meet his own. They laid in silence for a moment, enjoying each other in what seemed to be the first relaxing and private moment they had been able to steal since coming to Earth. It was easy here to forget everything happening outside of this little room. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After slipping away from their guards and having a romantic spy level tryst in a sleazy hotel, Garak and Julian discuss Starfleet's plans for Cardassia and their future. Garak is deeply distrustful of Luther Sloan who keeps popping in up. They meet with Julian's parents albeit briefly as soon after a confrontation with Richard Bashir there is an attempt on all of their lives by Cardassian extremists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a huge update, that's why it took so long! 16 pages in Google Docs. Whew. 
> 
> A lot less smut in this story than last time. None in this chapter but so much good emotional stuff and some super sweet moments among chaos. 
> 
> (there will be smut in the next chapter, gotsta give the people what they want!) 
> 
> Sloan is a character I love to hate and love to write other characters to hate - he's so smarmy!!! It's really fun to do Sloan vs Garak, they have surprisingly great back and forth. 
> 
> We love comments :D

It couldn’t last though. It never did. As they lay in the small bed, Julian couldn’t help but steer the conversation back toward Cardassia and the Starfleet offer, especially now that they were semi certain of being clear of Federation listening devices. They still had plenty of time in the tiny room, but Julian knew Starfleet would be working itself into an absolute frothing panic about their whereabouts by now. 

“You won’t even consider their offer?” Julian asked while listening to Garak’s heartbeat, his head resting flush with his chest. It was slowing to resting. He had listened to thousands of heartbeats, but the sound of his husband’s was still magical. 

“Back to business so soon,” Garak sighed. 

“Now is probably the best time to talk about it, while we have a little privacy.”

“It was insulting to my Cardassian pride not to mention my own intelligence.”

“You could save lives though. Countless lives. The whole planet.”

“At what cost?”

“What price is too high, Elim? This is your chance to reshape Cardassia’s future. I certainly can’t think of anyone better for the job,” Julian said. Garak was always charmed by how much unearned faith Julian had in him, but this was too much. 

“I see being back on campus has given your optimistic outlook the recharge it so desperately needed,” Garak didn’t like the bitterness in his own voice. “Is this how planets are joined to the Federation? Out of desperation? And while we are asking these big questions- how much am I expected to give of myself for other unnumbered lives?! I already gave them Cardassia, but no, they want me to take it back and remold it into something more acceptable to their tastes - with their generous help of course.” He was raving. 

“I just want you to think about it. There are ways around all the Starfleet power wrangling, especially if you’re two steps ahead of them. Besides we...may have need of the Federation in the future.”

“May?” Garak raised an eyebrow. “I have no doubt we need Starfleet’s help but they don’t give it freely. Every string attached is a yolk on Cardassia’s neck, another noose with which to hang ourselves.” Garak pushed himself up into a sitting position, resting his forearms on his knees. “If they wanted to save us they could, they could’ve done it ten times over by now - but they haven’t because it doesn't make sense to give something for nothing. Julian, I already betrayed my people once to save them, I don’t know if I should be the one making these decisions for an entire world.” 

“If not you, who? Someone bloody sure will. The Federation is going to find a patsy eventually. Someone easily manipulated. You could prevent that from happening. You are far more clever than most of Starfleet, and with my help-” 

“What did Sloan say to you anyway?” Garak stopped him. Now that the fog of sex was clearing from his mind, the discussion they had in the restaurant suddenly came back. He knew his ridges must be betraying his emotions, but he didn’t care. “Word for word. I know you remember the conversation in detail and I-”

Garak was cut off by a sound almost never heard in this particular establishment: a stern, interrupting knock at the door. 

“Shit!” Julian said, his hands flying to his mouth. He spun around looking for his uniform shirt and jacket. Another three knocks, louder and slower this time. “We’ve been found.” 

“Oh good. Just the people I want to see,” Garak practically sang. The knocking came again. 

“Yes, one bloody moment!” Julian shouted at the door while gathering up Garak’s clothes and throwing them at him. “Get dressed.”

“What? Are you worried you’re in  _ trouble _ ?” Garak teased. 

“I likely  _ am _ in trouble. I’m still Starfleet after all.”

“Don’t jump to these people’s command Julian.  _ If _ we are really going to consider doing this, you’ll really need to break the habit,” Garak said tossing his clothes aside and jumping out of bed. He took two long strides to the door and got it open before Julian could stop him. A baffled security agent stood there, eyes wide at the naked Cardassian currently facing him. “Just one moment, if you please.” The young man mutely nodded, slack jawed and stretched out his hand revealing Garak’s and Julian’s communicators. Garak shrugged and took the communicators from him before closing the door. He turned to see Julain laughing into his hands. 

“You’re terrible,” he said smiling. 

“You do realize,” Garak continued his line of thought. “If I take this, you’ll have to resign fully from Starfleet. It would only be proper. Maybe even become a Cardassian citizen,” Garak said as he picked up his own clothes.

“I suppose you’re right.” Julian said quietly. “But I’m willing to make major sacrifices for our future together and for the future of the people suffering on Cardassia” Julian said. “Are you?” 

He got dressed in silence. Only Julian could shut him up like this. When they opened the door no one was there, but there was a security officer at the bottom of the central stairwell. Garak hooked his arm in Julian’s and they slowly went down the steps, looking a bit disheveled. Garak had his jacket back on but kept the black side out with the collar turned up around his face while Julian’s uniform was pulled half open. Outside in the cold night air was Sloan, standing next to a black car with no windows. Julian felt Garak tense up immediately. 

“Doctor Bashir, Mr. Garak, I’m here to escort you directly to your secure quarters. And since you don’t seem to be aware of the major security risk you’ve just taken I’d be happy to brief you, in detail, on the way there.”

“No, I don’t think so, Sloan,” Garak said, his tone filled with false congeniality. “We’ll skip the lecture, I don’t think I could stand the smug sound of your voice at the moment,” Garak said as he opened the car door and ushered Julian inside. He closed the door before Julian knew what was happening. Garak intended to give Sloan a friendly warning, spy to spy. 

“Should you or your pathetic so-called ‘intelligence agents’ ever attempt to manipulate me using my family again, you will be the one requiring protection. I promise. Am I making myself  _ excruciatingly _ clear?” Garak practically hissed out, inches from Sloan’s face. 

“This is what we do, how it’s done.” 

“Not anymore,” Garak’s wide unblinking eyes burned into Sloan. “Never again, leave him out of it.”

“It’s his life too. He’s a part of this now. You know he won’t save himself if it means leaving you to your own destruction.”

Garak paused, absorbing the comment before he walked away and got in on the other side of the vehicle. 

“Agent Sloan will find his own transport,” Garak slammed the door shut harder than was necessary. “Computer, go.” 

The self-driving pod sprung to life and began to follow the course set by Sloan to the secure building in the heart of the Federation campus. The interior was lit up by a beautiful show of moving lights streaking across the dimmed roof and sides at the approximate speed of the vehicle. Even this utilitarian machine was made not only comfortable, but lovely. 

“You want to tell me what happened back there?” Julian asked quietly. 

“Oh, just laying some ground rules,” he grabbed Julian’s hand tightly. “If he ever approaches you again, tell me right away.” 

“Elim - he told me that we are likely to be murdered if we go back to Cardassia.” He wasn’t even going to mention the deal with Starfleet, they both knew it, it was in the car right alongside them taking up far too much space.

“Assassinated would probably be the correct term at this point, but yes, I was  _ told  _ the same. But darling, what makes you think Starfleet can stop that from happening?” He swallowed hard and squeezed Julian’s hand before staring forward.

Julian looked at him with concern, but said nothing. They arrived at their quarters and were quickly ushered inside, this time by a four person security team. No one was leaving anything up to chance now. They fell back into bed at almost 0300 in the morning.

They spent the morning slowly preparing to leave. Julian woke up to more messages from his parents. He wanted to put off leaving to seeing them for as long as possible. Garak,meanwhile, addressed their security team in the hallway. These were the people who would be following them across the planet. His initial shouts had turned into murmurs, and soon he'd rejoin him. Then they had to, absolutely must, no more ignoring it, see his parents. They were expected.

His mother had finally stopped messaging him when he sent a single assurance that he would be there at specific time. Missing that time would create more problems, more questions, but as it approached he felt a familiar cramp in his gut. They were the people who hadn’t loved their little boy enough as he was. They had made him live a dangerous lie. They had smothered him and pushed him so they could have a thing to be proud of, they had created him to live out their fantasies. Julian couldn’t help but feel like an object to his parents rather than a human. He could only imagine what they thought about his recent life choices, especially after his father’s jail sentence. He had gone to the penal colony to save Julian’s Starfleet career - which he was more than likely abandoning. The fallout was going to be...interesting. 

Garak came back into the room looking somewhat mollified to a husband who appeared ready to come apart at the seams. He held out his hand and lifted him from the couch. 

“Are you ready?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Julian responded. With a nod they walked together to the door. Only two clearly uniformed guards now stood in the hallway, and joined them as they headed to the transporter. They would be loosely guarded from there on out by the others, while wearing civilian clothes and trying their best to become part of the background. Garak had admonished their pitiful attempt to blend in, but one of their guards struck him. She was far better at it than the others. It was the blonde human again, the one who had picked up Julian’s shoes on the beach. Did she do that out of forethought for her charges or because she was ordered?

They strolled casually towards the transport station. As they stood on the pad Julian grasped Garak’s hand. 

“My dear, you do not need to grip me that hard, I promise I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Right, sorry. You won’t need those goggles right away, it’s already dark in Dubai.”

“As you’ve told me,” Garak reassured Julian by gripping his hand and kissing their interlaced fingers. “It will be alright.” 

A security agent pressed a few buttons and suddenly they stood in a bright and busy lobby. Music played softly over the sound of intricate fountains flowing across marble. Huge tropical plants towered against the glaring white of the towering room. White walls, white tiles, white couches sitting next to white gleaming side tables. The purity of the place immediately creeped Garak out. 

“It’s so clean. I thought you said this was a desert!” 

“It was, it is. Earth generally looks like...this,” he said, shrugging his Starfleet bag up on his shoulder. “I figured we’d be more comfortable in this hotel than at their home.” 

“Jules! And…” his mother rushed forward through the crowd, a spot of color in her red sari in the cavernous blank space. She stopped short and looked surprised when she saw Garak next to him. Not many Federation civilians had ever seen a Cardassian in the flesh before.

“Mother, this is Elim Garak, my husband,” Julian rushed to the introduction part, desperately trying to skip anything else. “Elim, this is my mother Amsha Bashir.” 

“Jules, I… I don’t know what to say. It’s nice to meet you Mr. Garak.” She said, cautiously extending her hand. He grasped it and nodded graciously. She gave him a weak smile before throwing her arms around Julian’s neck. “Oh Julian. It’s been so long! My sweet baby boy, so grown up and married! I’m sorry I’m just....very surprised. I mean, I’m so happy you found someone you care so much about.” Her smile began to morph and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. 

“Mum…please, don’t cry.” Julian groaned, dropping his head into his hands. 

“I wish I knew what to say!” The tears were flowing now. “This is how we find out? With the rest of the *sob* galaxy.” People in the lobby were beginning to stare at the scene and when Garak finally registered as Cardassian a small crowd formed as people held up the flow of foot traffic to stop and stare. From the corner of his eye Garak noticed two security agents close by. 

“Hardly the whole galaxy Mum. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone I just… I struggle to talk to you and Dad about… wait… where is Dad?”

“He’s not angry Jules,” She rushed a little too fast to explain. “He’s just...disappointed. He wanted time to calm down and for me to talk to you. He will see you at home for dinner tonight” Amsha wiped away her tears. “Will you tell me about the wedding?” 

“Uh, yeah, it was beautiful and -” this earned another litany of sobs and Julian looked desperately at Garak. He gently took his mother by the arm and guided her to a nearby plush sofa under a giant palm tree. 

“Mrs. Bashir, I have a gift for you.” Garak said. The abruptness of his announcement interrupted her tears just enough for Elim to continue as he handed her a box. “It was a lovely, very small ceremony on Bajor. You were sorely missed but I am looking forward to celebrating with you and Julian’s father now that we are here on Earth.” Garak said in his usual disarming voice. The wrapping paper was gone and the lid removed to reveal a photo album, bound in the most beautiful fabric Bashir may have ever seen, deep red, gold, and white. She looked overcome and her hand flew to her mouth as she opened to the first page. 

“You both look so happy. Julian, you are so handsome,” she said, a smile crossed her face as she flipped through the photos. “It really was a beautiful day. I wish I could have been there...” Julian worried she was going to start to cry again but her heartbreak melted into pride and joy in front of their eyes. The photos were a brilliant move, one that Garak purposefully didn’t tell Julian about - probably so he could save the day and win some husband points. Well, it was working. 

“So you are living on Bajor now?” She asked, pointing to a photo of the wedding party in front of Kira’s Uncle’s farm.

“Cardassia...actually.” Julian answered, Amsha’s eyebrows shot up and Julian braced himself. 

“Isn’t that very dangerous?”

“It’s challenging. But the work we’re doing is very important,” Julian explained. 

“What about Starfleet? You aren’t  _ stationed  _ on Cardassia, are you?”

“It’s...not really clear. Ah, the situation is still changing all the time. It’s something I’ll have to work out before we leave Earth.”

“Leave? We thought- we hoped that you would be given a promotion and be able to move home, at least until you were re-stationed somewhere else.” Her eyes flicked to Garak, then back to Julian. “But I can see that isn’t very likely now.” Julian squeezed Garak’s hand hard in response. 

“You know not to make assumptions where Starfleet is concerned at this point Mum.” Julian gave her a smile, trying to lighten the mood and move away from cold facts. “Who knows where they’ll send me next or when?” 

“Well, we can talk about it tonight. Dinner? I’m not sure I know what Cardassians like…”

“Don’t put yourself out on my account, madam.” he said. “I am looking forward to trying your cooking. Julian even attempts to recreate a dish from time to time.” 

“ _ My _ son cooking! That’s surprising. You would have thought he was chained to his replicator growing up. He never appreciated it!” she tutted and pinched Julian’s cheek. 

“Let me get us checked in and send the bags up, then we can head out mum,” Julian said while rolling his eyes. He walked away, leaving Garak and Amsha alone. She sank down further into the pure white couch and continued to flip through the photo album with a handkerchief in her hand. Garak perched politely beside her.

“Who’s this?” she pointed towards the wedding party. 

“That’s Miles, Chief Engineer of the station, Julian’s best man. We all met on Deep Space Nine.”

"That's right...I do remember you. When we visited the station he mentioned he was...friends with a Cardassian on the station. A tailor."

"Really? Well, we were just friends, then. Funny he'd even mention me," he tried to hide his delight. 

“So many Bajorans were there. And Cardassians? I didn’t know Cardassians were allowed on Bajor,”

“There are still some Cardassians on Bajor, mostly war orphans. We’ve been trying to repatriate them but it’s difficult to find safe places for them at home, at the moment,” Garak said sadly. “I don’t really have any family, so some of the orphans we have become close to filled out my side of the aisle, as well as some of the people helping us rebuild Cardassia.”

“You have no family?”

“I have, well, I have Julian,” Garak said. “Cardassian culture was very family oriented. It still is but you cannot find a family that is still whole. We’re going to have to redefine what that means post-war.” He deftly sidestepped the question of his family. Let her think they are all dead. 

_ Oh wait. They all are. _

“The war. Yes. I should warn you: Julian’s father has some strong opinions when it comes to the war.” 

“I see,” Garak said, folding his hands. “May I inquire what those opinions might be?” 

“He hasn’t been the same since he went to the penal colony.” She said quietly, avoiding his eyes. Amsha played it surprisingly close to the chest, she had answered his question the way he had answered hers - obliquely - just enough information. Her earlier emotional openness had been for Julian, when she could feel friendliness forming between Garak and herself, she pulled back. She carefully closed the photo album, smoothing her palm over the cover. “Thank you, again.” 

“My pleasure, madam.”

“Oh, call me Amsha, please,” she hazarded a smile as Julian approached them. 

“Everything alright?”

“Just fine. Shall we?” Garak asked. As he rose he naturally put out a hand to help Amsha up. She hesitated, but took it. She hooked her arm in Julian’s and they made their way to the rows of gleaming white self-driving pods waiting outside the hotel’s towering glass facade. The moment they stepped outside, they were blasted with hot dry air. Even at night, the heat baked into the surrounding landscape radiated out at almost 35 C. Garak smiled appreciatively and then frowned as he climbed into the self-driving pod, which was predictably chilled to a comfortable human climate. Behind them, four security guards piled into the next and followed closely behind.

The machine silently carried them through bright streets lined with markets, restaurants, and beings from nearly every Federation planet. The inside of the vehicle was just as quiet and Garak desperately wanted to tell Julian what his mother had said. Julian was going into this visit home with no idea what his father was going to think while Garak had the benefit of his mother’s warning steeled against years of experience being the lone despised Cardassian. Garak carefully put back in place the emotional barriers he had developed as a spy and honed as an exile. His mate had fooled himself into thinking he had torn them down, but in reality Garak had just found a Julian shaped hole, the walls were still mostly good.

They pulled up to another bright and huge building filled with spacious apartments above and shops and stores on the first floor. As they pulled up their counterparts stopped as well. Amsha looked confused. 

“Who are those people?” She asked, stepping out of the car and looking directly at the black clad guards. “They were at the hotel as well.” 

“They are Starfleet Security, Mum,” Julian said, and his mother looked momentarily shocked and then scowled. 

“Am I expected to feed  _ them _ as well? I didn’t plan for such a large dinner party.” 

“No mum, they can handle themselves.” Julian mumbled, he looked a bit, understandably, on edge. 

It was quieter here, and the few humans in the lobby stopped and stared at Garak openly. Julian, as usual, pretended not to notice, or maybe he just wasn’t as terribly observant at this moment. He seemed to be staring straight ahead like an animal caught in a trap. They were all marching towards a row of lifts. He’d never seen Julian so nervous before. He reached out and took Julian’s hand before they reached their destination. He pulled him close, away from Amsha's arm. 

“Wait,” he said. They both turned to him, but he only looked at Julian. “Julian, whatever happens up there, it will be alright,” he smiled and caressed Julian’s face. Julian smiled and shook his head. 

“I’m being absolutely ridiculous.”

“Not at all,” he wrapped his arms around Julian. They stood there for a moment, Julian breathing in his husband's scent to calm him down, until they heard the lift open. Garak opened his arms and let Julian step forward. He followed him into the elevator. 

“Julian, please don’t be so worried. Your father loves you,” Amsha said. “It’s all alright. We’re just so happy you’re here and alive.” 

“I know, mum,” he took her arm again and Garak reassuringly placed his hand on his back.

“Level 80,” Amsha said. 

The door of the lift opened directly into their spacious apartment. Garak still couldn’t quite get used to the opulence of Earth. They stepped into an entrance area that opened into a sunken living room. The high ceilings led out to wall-sized windows which darkly gazed on to a wide balcony and a glittering mega-city spiked with similar towers beyond. The air was cool and full of the smell of spicy cooking. Just beyond the sitting area was the kitchen, where an older man, practically a spitting image of Jules, was hovering over a steam pot. 

“Hello uh..,” 

“Jules!” he shouted. He hustled from the kitchen wiping his hands on his apron. He grabbed Julian and pulled him into a tight bear hug, sobbing into his son’s shoulder. “My boy. My god, I was so scared I’d never see you again. Are you alright?” He held him out arms length to get a good look at him. “You look so different. They told us you were injured,” it all came out in a rush, his relief overwhelming any anger or disappointment. 

“I was on a classified mission for a very long while. But I’m alright, the war’s been over nearly a year now.” 

“Yes it has. And we didn’t hear from you for all that time,” Richard said, his voice breaking as he gripped Julian by the shoulder. Julian looked completely lost. Richard looked over at Garak and seemed to jump out of his skin. He immediately took Amsha by the elbow and led her away from Garak’s side even as she still clutched his gift.

“Father, allow me to introduce my husband Elim Garak. Elim, Richard Bashir,” Julian said, taking Garak’s hand. There was an awkward silence. 

“So it’s true? Yes, I heard. On the telly,” he said coldly, still wiping his eyes. He stood staring at Garak. Amsha opened the photo album and elbowed her husband. He glanced down at the images momentarily and then looked at the two again. Garak recognized the look in his eyes: fear. 

“Mr. Bashir, how good it is to finally meet you,” Garak said, using his sterling customer service voice. Julian grimaced but figured it was just as well. They would need to really grease this introduction. “I have a gift for you as well.” Garak reached into his bag and pulled a rectangular box wrapped in blue paper. He cautiously put it down on a side table and stepped back, smiling the whole time. 

“You’re a war hero?,” Richard asked as he picked up the box, turning it over in his hands. “What did you do that was so heroic, eh?” 

“Father, let’s not jump-”

“Just makin’ conversation. Trying to get to know him,” he muttered. “I mean, you never mentioned him and here you are married for…?”

“Six months.”

“Six months,” Richard repeated. “That’s a long time to not tell your parents you’re dating a Cardi. That you're alive and healthy and  _ married _ ,” he said, choking up a bit. Julian closed his eyes at the slur and swallowed hard. At that moment a pot began to boil over and Amsha escaped to the kitchen. Richard sank down into a nearby chair, still holding the unopened gift. 

“Could you not--” Julian started, but Richard cut him off. 

“We all had a hard time of course, knowing you were out there...not hearing from you…I was scanning the list of the dead everyday,” Richard’s hand shook a little as he spoke. “Where’s my head at,” he unsteadily unwrapped the box, revealing a bottle of scotch, the same he sent Julian on his release from prison. Richard nodded in approval. “That’s a good scotch,” he begrudgingly admitted. He motioned for Garak and Julian to join him. On the table were already crystal glasses and an ice bucket. Richard immediately cracked opened the bottle and poured himself a healthy glass. Julian took the bottle and poured himself and Garak a solid measure as well then taking a seat across from his father. 

“Where you been living then? Still on DS9?”

“Ah, no, we’ve been on Cardassia,” Julian said, taking a deep swig. 

“Cardassia?” he shouted “What the bloody hell are you doing there? It’s dangerous and blown to pieces. It’s no place for a Starfleet officer, that’s for sure. They aren’t even Federation Jules!” He shook his head, “I suppose that Is your idea,” Richard pointed at Garak. 

“So was the scotch,” Garak said with a shrug. He was in less than serviceable mood after being called a Cardi. 

“We  _ both _ decided to work on Cardassia,” Julian corrected him. 

“Oh really? And what is it that you do Mr. Garak?”

“Until recently I was a tailor.”

“ _ Elim _ ," Julian warned.

“What?” 

“It’s complicated, father.”

“Doesn’t sound like it. Starfleet giving out medals for sewing now? You hem the admirals pants or something?”

“No, just for saving the Federation and ending an intergalactic war,” Garak said offhandedly. “Now I assist Julian in the hospital, sometimes I’m digging through the rubble for body recovery, whatever is needed really.”

“I don’t see why you’ve got to drag my boy into that mess, Cardassia.” he grumbled. 

“I  _ want _ to be there. It’s important work we’re doing. The people of Cardassia aren’t Central Command. They’re people and they need help.”

“They got what was coming to them! Millions of Federation citizens are dead because of those snake Cardis!” 

“That is too much,” Julian said, rising up from the couch but keeping his voice level and calm. 

“Julian, it’s quite alright-” Garak said.

“No it is not, and I won’t have it. I won’t have you using slurs to refer to Cardassians, or degrade my home, my work or my husband. Really, and you wonder why I don’t share details of my life with you!”

“Earth is your home, not Cardassia! And I assumed you knew how wrong your choices were and did not want me to find out!” Richard’s voice was getting louder now. 

“Cardassia is my home, Elim is my home. You really were waiting to pounce as soon as we got here, weren’t you? Seeing me for the first time in years after a war and this is what you want to do?”

“When you bring a surprise Cardassian home after not hearing from you from who knows how long? Yes!”

“Oh that’s just lovely!” They had both raised their voices now. Poor Amsha was undoubtedly hiding in the kitchen and Garak felt for her, he wished he was back there too as he looked into his drink. Their row was almost enough of a distraction to cover a strange sound approaching. 

“What is that?” Garak asked. They both quieted down to hear a high-pitched whirl. It seemed to be rushing toward them up the side of the building just outside the window, getting closer and closer. Garak’s eyes widened. 

“Get down!” he shouted just before four masked figures alighted on the apartment’s balcony. All four holding large disruptors. The dazzling windows shattered and fell in fractured sheets as the assassins pumped round after round of electrified bolts into the apartment. Julian dove behind the kitchen cabinets as Garak grabbed Richard by the collar and slung him in the kitchen as well. The lift door opened and two Starfleet agents in civilian clothes took position in the entryway, but they were completely pinned down and out gunned.

Everything in the apartment was being shredded by the hail of high-powered rifle fire. Garak managed to get his hands on what looked like a serviceable kitchen knife from his position behind the couch. He flicked his wrist, sending the blade straight into the eye of the closest gunman. That one fell, allowing Garak to scramble quickly to the still body, flattening himself against the wall he was just barely able to snatch his disruptor and escape harm. Now they were evenly matched. The assassins never hesitated at the loss of their comrade but kept firing. Garak motioned for the Starfleet officers to lay down cover as he hazarded a blind burst of fire. These three were simple butchers, not trained surgeons in violence, like him. He didn’t need to actually see them to know exactly where they were. 

He heard the phasers begin to fire and took this moment to jump up and pump three rounds expertly directly at the shooters. Two of them crumpled, with one getting off a few shots as they fell to the floor. A bolt zinged close enough to Garak’s head to leave a long seared mark along the side of his skull. He vaulted over the couch, now a pile of fluff and disintegrating fabric, and took a steadying breath, reaching out with every fiber of his being. He knew he had only moments before the last shooter took their own life and they would be back to where they started intelligence-wise. The assassin was backing up towards the balcony, still firing wildly and without reason into the apartment. Garak took a careful aim and shot directly into the shoulder of the gunman, severing nerves and muscles. Their arm fell useless to their side, dropping the disruptor with an echoing clatter in the now unnaturally quiet room. Garak used the butt of the disruptor to smash the would-be assassin in the head, sending them to the floor. The Starfleet agents rushed to his side, aiming the phasers at the unconscious form.

“Speak,” Garak demanded in Kardassi over the still figure. He reached down and pulled the shooter up by her clothes while pulling the mask down, revealing a Cardassian woman, probably close to his own age. Her eyes fluttered back into consciousness and Garak aimed his weapon at her head. “Now!” 

“Traitor. Devourer of the billion. Cardassia will rise again...all hail the Red Hand!” she managed to sputter out. She spat blood in Garak’s face before using her good hand to grab a small weapon from her belt. The security agent next to Garak fired her phaser to stun her, but it was too late. The Cardassian woman aimed the disruptor at her own head and fired, sending a spray of blood across the white tile and Garak’s face. The three of them stood shocked for a moment, and Garak dropped the body with a sickening thud when he came back to his senses. 

“Julian!” he shouted, running to the kitchen. Julian was unhurt, as were his parents. They clung to each other with their eyes shut. He leapt from his place on the floor and flung his arms around Garak’s neck. 

“Were you hit? Are you alright?” Julian was panicked at the sight of all the Cardassian blood and checked him all over, but there was just the glancing wound on Elim’s head. He put his hands on the back of Garak’s neck and pressed their heads together, his smooth hot forehead against Garak’s  _ chufa. _ “Don’t be a hero? Isn’t that our rule? Goddamn it Elim,” Julian’s voice was shaking as he squeezed his eyes tight, trying to keep his composure. He hadn’t been shot at in so long, he had almost forgotten the incredible, wrenching fear that takes hold after a battle. 

“Not heroic at all my love. Most of this blood isn’t even mine,” Garak said after a moment, allowing the calm of having his mate safe and pressed against him to wash over him. He reached for a kitchen towel and looked at Amsha who was too busy having a full blown panic attack in her husband's arms to give him permission. Seeing as he had just saved their lives, he figured a kitchen towel was the least they could do. He wiped the blood from his face. “Just doing what I was trained to. Mr. Bashir? Amsha? Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I think we are all right.” Richard responded. She was weeping uncontrollably into Richard’s chest and trembling. “What the hell was all that?” he asked. Garak and Julian shared a glance and Julian nodded. 

“Assassins would probably be the correct term,” Garak let the words fall from his lips settling heavy in his chest. He almost wanted to answer their wide eyes with a shrug or even a laugh. These confused and frightened strangers had no idea what Garak and Julian had lived through and would continue to live through. They didn’t know who their son was, what he had done to survive, his sacrifices, or the depths of his capabilities. They couldn’t fathom the person he was now, if they ever knew him at all. 

“Julian?” Richard asked, concern tinged his voice. Julian could only nod again as he got his heart rate and breathing back under control. Starfleet, as well as some local officials, were streaming into the apartment. Several robotic drones hovered over the scene, some taking crime scene photos and others preparing for the evening news, all being directed by security. Garak picked out Sloan standing in the hall, waiting for them. 

“Well,” Garak said, clapping his hands together. “It was truly a delight meeting you both but I’m afraid we will need to end the evening a little early.” He held his hand out to Julian who took it without another thought. 

“Wait, we just got to see you again, what is going on? You’ve been with us less than an hour. Please!” 

“It isn’t safe Mum, I’ll come back and see you when it is. You both need to get somewhere safe as well.” 

“They’ll be relocated to an undisclosed location. Please pack your things, only what you can carry,” Sloan’s voice directed from behind Julian. He turned around to see the Section 31 agent standing amidst the chaos of the room.

“Thank you, I… I appreciate that Sloan.” 

“Starfleet will take it from here. Gentlemen?” Sloan motioned towards the lift. 

“One moment,” Julian turned back to his parents and took one of each of their hands. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, or where, but please take care of yourselves and try not to worry about me. I’ll reach out to you as soon as it is safe. I promise.” 

Richard helped his wife up from the floor, their legs shaking from the adrenaline. They had bits of plaster and wood in their hair, and the entire meal was splattered all over the kitchen. Their balcony and living room were filled with blood and death. He surveyed the damage.

“We’re never going to be able to come back here, are we?” Richard asked Sloan. 

“No, Mr. Bashir,” Sloan said.

“Good. Julian, I’m...I’m so sorry. ‘Bout everything. It was a real shock to the system, is all. I really am grateful you’re alive. Please stay that way,” Richard said. He looked at Garak but all he could muster was a nod, the same fear as before apparent on his face. Now he knew for sure Garak was a killer. All of his suspicions about Cardassians were confirmed, he had seen it with his own eyes. Such acts could be shocking to civilian sensibilities, and Garak took no offense. As Richard led Amsha to their rooms to get their things, she picked up their wedding photo album and clutched it to her chest. 

The ride down the lift was quiet, initially. Garak absentmindedly picked at some dried blood that was in process of hardening on his favorite shirt. Julian just stared forward, leaning against the wall, and Sloan looked like he was chewing on a fat I-told-you-so he couldn’t wait to unleash. Garak really rather not give him the satisfaction, but it was only a matter of time. 

“Coming to any conclusions about the Federation’s offer?” Sloan asked, nearly giddy. Garak tsk’d, seemingly at his ruined shirt. 

“You know, some stains never come out, no matter how hard you try, there’s no going back.”

“Cryptic,” Sloan said with a smirk. Garak smiled, and imagined ramming his arm down the spymaster’s throat. The easy crunch of this human’s windpipe would be extremely satisfying. His protection hormones were still swirling, ticking just over the redline. He was gritting teeth trying to tamp it down. 

“Where were your people?” he growled

“Two are dead on the ground, we’d have been more effective if we had been allowed more access…”

“Oh yes, dump more dead on my hands, I’m already the ‘devourer of the billion’” Garak huffed out under his breath. He needed a red leaf tea, a bed, and to hold Julian. By the looks of it, he needed that too. “This planet is ridiculous.” 

“I’m sorry it does not meet your expectations.” 

“Tell me, is this repeated ineptitude intentional? What a strange way to convince us how badly we need you.”

“Enough.” Julian interjected on the sniping contest, softly but firm enough to make them turn to look at him in surprise. He shot them both a serious look before pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes and letting out a low moan. “That could not have gone any worse.” 

“Oh I don’t know, we could all be dead!” Garak could feel Julian’s white hot stare on the side of his face powered by pure annoyance. The lift arrived and opened to a lobby cleared of civilians, a portable transporter set up in the center with more black clad guards surrounding it. 

“This is your ride. You’re being sent to a blackout site while we investigate the attack. You may be moved to several blackouts in the coming days. From there we’re going to have to discuss what our next moves are. I understand you were hoping for a vacation, well, you’re certainly about to see a whole lot more of this ‘ridiculous planet,’” Sloan said motioning towards the transporter. Garak was hesitant though. 

“Blackout site?” 

“No communications except by official secure channels. Your whereabouts will be highly classified. Only Starfleet security on site, very heavily guarded,” Sloan rattled off. He hadn’t noticed Garak slowing down and stopping behind them until Julian and Sloan were almost to the transporter. “Mr. Garak? What’s wrong?”

“We had such places on Cardassia,” he said. Garak walked up and quickly pulled Julian towards him and away from the transporter pad. His eyes were wide and unblinking, every muscle was taut. Garak was still in the full tilt of a spike in aggressive and protective hormones, extreme paranoia being just one of the possible symptoms. He had been so grateful Garak was unhurt he didn’t stop to think about the after effects the fight would have on his Cardassian physiology. Garak shifted to stand in front of Julian, while taking several steps backward.

“They were places to forget about people, not hide them.”

“Mr. Garak, we have invested far too much time and resources into saving your life just to kill you ourselves. You’re not our prisoner. You can leave if you wish, though I think you’ll find that course of action extremely unwise,” Sloan said. Garak’s ridges darkened. 

“Elim! Elim, listen to me. Calm down, it’s alright,” Julian put his hand on Garak’s shoulder and turned him away from Sloan. “Give us just one moment, please.” 

Julian took Garak’s trembling hands and looked into his eyes. Garak tried to focus on Julian through his desire to fight. Julian’s large green eyes and soft voice. Julian safe. Julian here, in front of him. They were almost in the exact spot where moments earlier Garak had comforted him before facing his father. He started with rubbing Garak’s hands and then arms, trying to sooth him to a merely pissed off and less murderous state. 

“it’s alright Elim, we can trust them. We’re safe.”

“Doctor?” Sloan asked.

“Just one bloody minute! He’s almost through the worst of it,” Julian responded over his shoulder. 

“I really hate that man,” Garak said through grit teeth. 

“Ha, I didn’t realize, you’ve been hiding it so well,” Julian moved his way up Garak’s arms to his shoulders and then his back. Slowly he could feel Garak’s tense muscles relaxing. Julian leaned forward, pressing their heads together again, and felt Garak’s tension drop away. “Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here and away from Sloan. It will be ok, I promise.” 

They walked back and stepped up on the transporter, Julian kept Garak tight against him, his arm around his waist. He partially wanted to reassure Garak, and partially to keep closer control on his husband’s actions. Sloan wordlessly touched the screen next to the pad and the two faded into a blue haze. 

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak and Julian enjoy some peace and quiet in their new safe house. They receive the initial report on the Red Hand's attack and uncover some information that worries them greatly. Garak has a panic attack and Admiral Duzi makes an appearance which leads to Garak finally making a decision regarding the Federation's offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the best sex scene I've ever written.
> 
> The more we write this the more we refer to our first story so if you don't know what's going on or why Garak would have an episode then please go back to Julian, Debriefed and read that one. Not entirely sure how to link stories but I'll get there. You can probably extrapolate what happened to cause Garak's ptsd but it's a good story anyway so read it :D 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

It had snowed the night before. Not much, just a dusting over everything, including the large windows set into the ceiling of their strange little love shack in the backwaters of Árneshreppur, Iceland. The skylights were always the first thing to greet Garak when he awoke, they were almost always dark, except for the streaks of colored light that occasionally lit up the atmosphere. The cabin was cozy and isolated, perched on the north western shore of the island over a rocky, black beach. One side of the cabin was the live rock built into the cliff, while the rest of the walls were all thick glass allowing for a stunning, as well as a tactical, 360 view. 

This was one of the few places left on Earth that were still subject to electromagnetic storms, mainly due to the cultural importance of the aura Borealis. All communications just looked like static from here. Beaming in and out was impossible and ships didn’t have anywhere reliable to come down and land almost a mile in any direction. It was a fortress and an incredibly comfortable one at that. A far cry from the dark hole to which Garak’s anxiety had taken him. 

They were on the third morning of their time in Árneshreppur and it really was starting to feel like a vacation. They had been left mostly alone as the investigation into the attack continued. The Federation had seemingly finally gotten the message that Garak needed some breathing space to consider their proposal. Even the guards had been keeping a low profile for once, taking up duty under the swirling ribbons of green and pink and blue light. Of course, it was simpler for anyone to blend in with rocks and moss then force their body language to lie through a crowd of people. 

He rolled to his side in the expansive bed and rested a hand on Julian’s hip, pressing against Julian’s back. ‘Spooning’ Julian called it, though at the time, he had thought he had suggested something far more offensive then cuddling. Garak couldn’t help but let out a hum in appreciation at Julian’s warm body which caused him to stir partially from his sleep. He ran a hand up Julian’s side, sliding past last night’s bite marks, and into his hair. No longer pretending to let him sleep, he let his hand move lower and then followed along his hip bone. Though Julian’s brain wasn’t fully awake, another part of him was - right on time too. Julian sighed and turned over, his eyes opening only partially to look at Garak.

“You’re insatiable,” Julian grumbled but didn’t stop him, just stretched and smiled.

_ So perfect. So beautiful.  _

They were both still naked from the night before and Garak drank in Julian’s exposed body. He had gained some weight back and his body had filled out transforming him back from too skinny to lean. Real and abundant food had been good for him, good for them both if he was being honest. 

_ The Federation could feed Cardassia.  _

He shoved the thought to the back of his mind.  _ No, not right now. _ He would be ready to make a decision after the investigation, though he knew he couldn’t trust that either. 

With a single flourish, Garak whipped the sheets away from the bed and melted down Julian’s body, planting kisses and bites as he went. The heat of Julian’s smooth skin brushed Garak’s sensitive  _ chula _ as he moved down and across his body sending shivers through his body. He felt a bit guilty, using Julian to distract him from his oppressive thoughts and feelings but he would make it up to him. He kissed Julian at his pelvic bone, just above his cock. He took Julian into his mouth, and gently fondled his balls while he pleasured him. 

Garak was becoming more and more interested in teasing Julian out, taking him to the edge of his orgasm and then forcing him back from it. It was almost like an interrogation. If you brought someone straight to their breaking point you’d lose valuable information, you needed to bring them to that point again and again until finally breaking them. As Julian started to moan and buck his hips, Garak backed away, only sucking on the head of his cock. He pulled off completely and blew cool air across him while raking his fingertips down his thighs, pulling Julian back into his body and away from his eventual release.

Julian whimpered a sound that Garak’s body responded to immediately as his  _ ajan _ flushed and grew slick. He set back to work on Julian, chasing those gasps and moans that set his skin alight. Julian was close but, once again, Garak pulled away from his sex to kiss him and bite his chest. Julian was desperate now, the head of his cock turning a dark color. While Garak kissed him he began to grind the head of his cock against Garak’s  _ chuva,  _ but Garak caught him by the wrist and pinned him down. They shared a hungry look before Garak returned to his work, teasing Julian until he was crying out, almost in pain from the ache, the need for release.

Julian was bucking his hips, looking for friction but finding nothing as Garak sat back from him and watched him writhe. He released his grip on Julian’s wrists and was immediately tackled and put on his back. Julian spread him open roughly, his prUt everting suddenly, before pushing inside of him. 

Just as he had hoped, Garak’s denial had driven Julian into a sexual frenzy. It was Julian’s turn now to pin Garak down by the wrists as he roughly fucked into him. It was dirty, hard, and exactly what he needed. Garak pressed his prUt against Julian’s body as he fucked him, grinding into his body until the friction and pressure caused him to come. Anxiety and fear disappeared and pleasure relief took its place. His body tensed around Julian’s cock causing him to helplessly spill inside him with a shudder, shouting out as the waves of his own orgasm crashed down over him. 

They stayed locked together for a few moments. Julian released Garak’s wrists and he immediately wrapped his arms around Julian and pulled him into a kiss pressing his  _ chufa  _ against his forehead. 

“I love you,” Julian whispered, gazing through his dark eyelashes, still inside of him, still panting from his efforts. Garak pulled him into another kiss and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down against his chest. 

When they finally got out of bed, Garak found that Starfleet had sent a preliminary report on the attack. His stomach clenched and he could feel the tension settling back into his body. It seemed even worse now that he had experienced some reprieve in Julian’s arms but he forced himself to read the report.

The Red Hand - a loosely organized group of Cardassian terrorists, leftovers from the Obsidian Order that had escaped the destruction of Cardassia Prime by virtue of being on missions off-world when the hammer came down. Originally scattered across the Alpha and Delta quadrants, they had begun to coalesce into something more substantial in recent months. Their base of operations was still unknown but it was unlikely that any of these agents had returned to Cardassia since the Dominion War out of fear of being executed as Dominion collaborators. It was a group of confused spies with no enemies or friends left going after the one target who remained alive on their list.

The next section of the report outlined a set of questions to be answered and Starfleet’s methodology for each. Most of them were what Garak expected, but one question stood out.  _ Who are they communicating with on Cardassia Prime? _ It was not a question of  _ if _ , he noted. The Red Hand wasn’t willing to come to Cardassia they just needed to wait for Garak to leave. Someone had alerted the Red Hand to their travel plans. 

_ Damn it.  _

Garak tossed the PADD on the table and pressed the tumult of emotions down as Julian came around the corner dressed in his hiking clothing, their parkas over his forearm. Julian had become quite the outdoorsman in Iceland, dragging him over moss-covered trails. He had to put his foot down when Julian suggested riding horses. Their first day there they had discovered 40-foot waterfalls carving out great uneven granite valleys which, while remarkable, were also cold, wet, and far from a warm bed, hot tea, and good books. 

“What do you think of taking a little walk around? Get some cold clean sea air in our lungs.” 

The concept of enjoying the sensation of an internal organ cooled by outside forces made Garak’s face twist up for a moment and Julian laughed. He tossed him his parka and Garak put it on without complaint. 

“I guess we should, we did spend the entire day yesterday locked in here during the rain.” 

“I could tell how much you hated it.” Julian said, closing the distance between them for a kiss. “Is that the report from Starfleet?” 

“Ah, yes, we should perhaps discuss this on our hike.” Garak had taken to only talking about sensitive matters outdoors, the windier the better. He had already carefully taken the parkas apart to search for listening devices and expertly stitched them back together on their first morning. The rudimentary devices he had found in the fabric worked on radio waves as the lack of solar protection here made more advanced technology unreliable. Still, obfuscation required multiple layers. 

Julian replicated a thermos full of hot tea and some snacks and dropped them in his pack without another word. He shared his husband's distaste for eavesdropping and shifted comfortably into stealth. The last few years of actual on the job espionage training had left its mark on Julian

They crossed the cabin in silence to a dimly lit hallway which led deeper into the cliffside towards a ladder on the wall. On the ceiling was a hatch that opened to the outside world, hidden among some rocks and underbrush. They pulled on heavy socks and hiking boots that were stored at the base of the ladder along with the other accouterment of winter - gloves, hats, scarves. Before Julian opened the hatch, Garak switched the heating elements set in the fabric of his coat on and was flooded with a humming electronic warmth.

It didn’t take Garak long to tell Julian about the report. The wind was whipping across the landscape, stinging their faces with blown snow providing ideal cover from any antiquated comms system.The snow was new. Garak had heard about snow and Julian had even ordered a holosuite program for a skiing holiday that they never went on. It only coated the distant mountains when they had arrived, but the agents who had spent more time here promised it would blanket the fjord soon enough. Here it was and now his steps left traces everywhere he went; he was pretty sure he had a nightmare about this as a young man. Julian locked his arm with Garak’s as they spoke to each other with their heads bent, almost touching. In their slow huddled hike down towards the sea, Garak recounted the report.

He watched Julian as he spoke and saw the memories of that night in Dubai play across his face as he went into each detail. He thought for a moment he could smell Caradassian blood but it was most likely the mineral smell of the sea playing tricks on him. He tried to shake it off but the memories of the violence continued unbidden as he related the report. Julian’s human reactions, so strong and open for him to see and feel, tugged at Garak’s memories even harder and he struggled to keep composure. 

“They think someone at home told the Red Hand we were coming.” Garak had finally come to the most troubling piece of information. Maybe if he moved on to hypotheticals and the future, the memories would die back. “They knew when to strike on Earth because someone on Cardassia told them we were leaving.” 

“Any idea who?” Julian asked with a resigned and distinctly tired sounding sigh. 

“No, just a vague profile of yet another upset bureaucrat who wants revenge basically the same as the Red Hand, no real help there.” They continued to walk pressed together but they were quiet now, both mentally turning over every one of their friends and acquaintances on Cardassia, looking for cracks in their backstories or odd behavior. 

The slate gray sea churned white peaks into the black volcanic beach against a bright pink sky. They scrambled along the towering black rocks that seemed casually tossed along the beach until they jumped to the volcanic sands, sinking in almost over their boots. It reminded him of the soft dust they had walked through on their way to the pools of that star locked moon they had found themselves on during the war.

In a flash, the seemingly harmless memory overwhelmed Garak. The sky, the beach, the impending sense of doom, all of it brought him back to the moon Julian had tracked him to after leaving DS9. He could see the strange straight gray trees of the habitable zone in Earth’s sky. It was if the past was stuck on top of the present and he could not pull them apart. The smell of smoke and explosives assaulted him but nothing was burning. He looked down and saw the long handle of a Cardassian blade striking from his chest and blood, so much of his blood, on his hands. When it had happened to him over a year ago he hadn’t time to feel the terror or the pain. Everything moved too quickly but now he was paralyzed by the most intense fear he had ever experienced. He couldn’t breathe and in every fiber of his being, he knew he was dying. The pink skies wavered and blurred, the tree branches of that alien world flickered off and on above him until the entire thing dimmed, then dropped away entirely as he left consciousness. 

He was only out for a few seconds and began to revive as soon as his body was able to breathe again. When he came back to his senses Julian was crouched over him with a tricorder. Garak’s head was swimming and the rush of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He bolted up, gasping in great gulps of cold air and ran his hands where he had seen the knife but there was nothing. The blood was gone and so was the smell of burning. Even without the visions though, he trembled. 

“Stay still dear,” Julian said softly as Garak clumsily attempted to clamber up to stand and lost his balance. He fell back into the sand with a thud while Julian steadied him. “Can you tell me anything about what just happened?” 

“I’m not entirely sure, I just thought about how much this place looked like that starlocked moon … and then I looked down and saw… the knife and blood… I could smell the treehouse burning…” Garak was gasping for air, it felt like he was unable to get a good breath. The past rose up and threatened to take over again. 

“Breath Elim, breath. You just had a severe panic attack.” Julian’s voice was doctorly, but sad. 

“It feels like...claustrophobia,” Garak weezed. 

“You need to slow your breathing, here,” he took Garak’s hand and slipped it inside his coat, pulling aside his shirt, pressing Garak’s palm to his warm bare chest. “Breath with me.” He held Garak’s trembling hand against him, trying to impart as much comfort as he could. It took a while to get to a place of calm, Julian had to reign Garak back from another attack and restart the breathing exercise more than once.

“Where the hell are the guards?” Julian asked, looking around. 

“I don’t know, I did tell them not to bother us unless our lives were in danger. Maybe they took it to heart,” Garak squeezed his eyes shut, a tear rolling down his face. 

“Darling, I need to get some medication for you and with no transporters or comms functioning out here I’ll need to find a replicator. I don’t want you to walk right now in case you have another episode. I’ll be right back, just keep breathing if you feel it happening again.” He touched Garak’s cold face, cupping his cheek in his hand. “I hate leaving you like this but it’s the best plan I can come up with. Be careful. I’ll be right back.” He reassured him again. He took the hot tea and scones from his bag and a two way handheld radio transmitter. “Keep your radio on, I’m going to check in with you. If something happens,” he pulled out a flare gun and set it next to the other provisions in the sand. Julian checked Garak’s vitals one more time, kissed him, and began an impressive dash across the sand back towards their cabin.

He watched Julian for as long as he could before he disappeared behind some boulders. He opened the thermos to sip at the red leaf tea, expecting to find it too sweet, the way Julian liked it, but he had brought it unsweetened just for him. Of course the icing glazed scones made up for the lack of sugar in Julian’s tea, but one Cardassian baked good was snuggled among the sugar. He was grateful for the fuel and for the very thoughtful mate. Food and tea seemed to reinvigorate him though he tried to keep his eyes closed and breathing slow to avoid triggering the violent memories. Another meditation on an Earth beach, the waves seemed to help Garak fall in trance. Without much effort he sank down and reached out his awareness along the beach. 

Suddenly, he felt someone watching him from not too far off. He touched the person with his awareness and to his surprise they seemed to notice and began walking towards him. He searched for others nearby but this person was alone, not even the guards were within reach. Rather than make him nervous, he relaxed a little - Sloan was correct of course. Why would Starfleet go through all this trouble just to kill him now? They must know this intruder is here and approve of them. Gark still reached out and picked up the flare gun, sliding it into his pocket.

As the person approached he extrapolated that they were Cardassian, unarmed, and female. Ah, Admiral Dzui, afterall what other Cardassian women on this planet wanted anything to do with him? She was showing off, making it clear her powers over the Federation could reach even to this secure place. He sat motionless until she was standing directly before him.

“Admiral Dzui, what a lovely surprise,” Garak said with practiced civility, his eyes sliding open to lock with hers.

“How are you enjoying Iceland?” She smiled as she pulled away a thermal face covering, her cheeks beginning to flush blue as soon as the cold kissed her face.

“It’s beautiful and … cold. I assume the Federation knows you are here.” 

“Of course, I demanded to speak to you alone, truly alone.” She held her hand out and when Garak took it she pulled him up to his feet with one fluid motion. Garak hid his surprise by dusting the sand off of him. 

“And they acquiesced,” Garak said glancing around a little nervously at the beach, hoping the guards were at least  _ watching _ if not allowed to listen.

“They trust me. It’s incredibly useful,” she said with a slow nod to him. Her breath sparkled in the low light every time she exhaled and her eyes shone in the cold. At their first meeting Garak hadn’t noticed how lovely she really was but this stark landscape bent around her beauty, as if the beach and rocks and pink sky existed only to serve as her backdrop. She didn’t waste any time and clasped her hands behind her back. “Aid to Cardassia won’t begin in earnest without someone identified as leadership. They want you. What are you waiting for? I know you are a true son of Cardassia; you have suffered for that devotion.” 

“Me? A “true son of Cardassia?” I didn’t do what I did for any high-minded ideals. I did it to save Julian, though destroying my enemies was a satisfying benefit,” Finally he had admitted it out loud. He felt another wave of emotion threatening to drown him but shoved it down with the help of another strong gust off the sea. “And before my exile, I fell in line with the same foolish men who drove Cardassia to destruction without a second thought. Make no mistake, I was a good soldier.”

“And what about now? How does someone  _ selfishly _ toil endlessly, for hours a day in the ruins of the home that rejected them? Who you were, your past motivations and actions, they don’t really matter. The people will believe whatever reassures them most especially during calamity,” Dzui said with another dismissive wave. She took a few cautious steps towards him. He shook his head. 

“I believe it would matter to those I would lead.” 

“You can make your past anything you want when you are the one writing the story. You can rewrite it any way you want it to serve a greater purpose..”

“The Federation trusts you, but not enough to put Cardassia in your hands. What is it that you want from this?” he asked. She would never answer him honestly, but her lie would be just as informative. 

“Same as you: I want to rewrite the story. I want to go home, but I want a home that is thriving, rebuilding, and pure Cardassian. I want to help lead a new Cardassia to a glory that shames the old, stripped of all the problematic elements that would throw away people like you and I, real patriots.” 

Just then Garak’s radio crackled to life with Julian’s voice sounding scratchy and far away. 

“I’m on my way back Elim, I’m leaving now. Are you alright?” 

“Yes, yes, I’m ok. I’ll be here when you get back.” Garak turned back to her. 

“Then you must come home now, before it is “worth” it for you, before it is thriving and rebuilding because without more hands it will never get there.” 

“Does that mean you’ll take the offer?” 

“Yes, I’ll take the offer, on the condition that you will work for me and that you return to Cardassia along with us.” Garak briefly thought of Julian’s favorite Earth spy quip,  _ keep your friends close and your enemies closer.  _ Though he wasn’t sure which one Dzui was yet, either way he felt instinctively better having a close eye on her.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

“Report,” Garak grunted, barely looking up from the paperwork on his desk as his office door opened and then closed.

“First thing, good morning Castellan Garak.” Oza’s face and voice were hard but Garak smiled. He tried to give the dark haired young Cardassi-Bajoran woman sitting in front of him one of his plastic smiles but he couldn’t help but be genuinely tickled by her insistence on familiarity and kindness in the midst of trouble. She reminded him so much of Kai Kira. 

“Well good morning, Oza, tea?” He motioned to the squat clay pot in the no-man’s land between the large desk that separated them. She made a dismissive gesture with her good hand.

“No thanks.” She was angry, as she often was. 

“Alright then,” Garak poured himself a cup and looked back up at Oza. “Report?” 

“Not. Good. The Guard has continued to harass the orphans. I don’t know why they feel the need to even come over to our settlement.” She muttered, crossing her arms, the stump that had once been her left hand tucked tight against her body. 

“I take it this isn’t on official business?” 

“Of course not, Garak.” She stood up and turned into the room with a yellow flourish. Her simple shift dress matched Garak’s shining silk doublet, almost everyone would be wearing yellow today, but she had matched the exact shade of his clothing by coincidence. The traditional Cardassian calendar had been almost completely abandoned well before the Dominion War but Dzui thought bringing it back would serve to bring people together. Garak had started using it and others noticed and simply...followed. In addition to the yellow Cardassian dress, Oza had paired the outfit with a Bajoran vest. 

“Tell me Oza, you are holding something back.” 

“They are targeting us, the half Bajorans, and harassing us on the street, off duty and on duty. And they are getting bolder, it isn’t just saying cruel things in passing or knocking into us on the street or talking down to us. Just last night a guard grabbed me around the waist and tried to drag me off saying something about how warm I looked.” Oza shuttered at the memory. Garak felt a surge of protective anger and mindlessly shattered his tea cup when he slammed it on the desktop. Oza raised her ridges in surprise but Garak just fished a handkerchief from his pocket and sooped up the liquid, scooping the cup pieces and dropping them to the side to be fed back into the reclamation unit without acknowledgement. Julian had diagnosed him with something akin to human post traumatic stress since returning from Earth- his body was always on alert, always a hair away from being triggered into frenzy. He had been managing it but this morning was proving more than he could take. He longed for the hypospray that offered him some relief but as close as Oza was with him, he wouldn’t allow himself to appear weak to her.

“Are you alright?” 

“Fine, your guard however won’t be trying to stick his prUt anywhere _warm_ for a while.” Oza sneered. 

“I’m deeply sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She said softly.

“It is, I am the one in charge of...everything that’s left here. We are all grateful for what the orphans have done and you all should be respected.” He turned and looked out of the large windows that surrounded the office. The murky dawn crawled across what remained of Lakarian City, a fitting capital for New Cardassia. Here the Dominion lost the war when they lost Cardassia - when they punished the entire city for the rebellion and success of the Cardassian Liberation Front. The Dominion’s rage was still stamped on the land as the literal typography had been leveled in a way that hadn’t happened anywhere else in the Cardassian Union. When the building he occupied was completed, he would look out onto nothing for miles but flat, red brown earth streaked with gray and black charcoal.

Now though, buildings were popping up and a kind of downtown with a market had struggled into existence. Most of it was Federation prefab building blocks for housing but some buildings, like this gleaming new high rise that served as the seat of government, were permanent. There were other structures now filling in the emptiness - generators and water pumps and purification systems dotted the area along with other signs of industry. None of it would’ve been possible without the labor that the orphans had provided when they arrived. 

“I’ll find the guard responsible and punish him, have him drummed out of the service.” 

“Garak, that isn’t going to help. Taking away his badge won’t keep him out of our part of the settlement - it’ll just make him angry and he’s only one of the guards, one part of the problem. We need security that is on our side. We need our people protecting us.” 

“We can’t have sides,” Garak had heard this argument before. He wasn’t interested in sparking a period of ethnic cleansing, it was his fault they were on Cardassia at all instead of Bajor, where they were at least ignored. 

“There already are sides! You’d sacrifice our lives for peace? We rebuild this planet on our backs and then get cannibalized? You told us we'd be Cardassians if we moved here...” 

“Yes, you are Cardassian, all of you, and Bajoran, and both have a place here. Oza, we are attempting to change so many centuries of ugliness, there will be… obstacles. Tonight, I will have security drones focused on the Bajoran district and remove the guards, that will at least be a temporary bandage until we can get some of the orphans on the guard.” 

“On the guard, as in policing native Cardassians?” Oza looked surprised. “You really think Cardassian will put up with that?”

“Of course, I only hope there are some settlers from Bajor interested. I mean, I can’t hand weapons over to you, that would encourage sectionalism, but I can integrate Bajorans into the guard and give weapons to _them_. Hopefully, settlers on the force will temper the Cardassians and provide some accountability.” Garak rubbed his ridges in frustration. The sun wasn’t even fully up yet. It seemed that after the Federation provided aid beyond survival, his people went about with their spare time attempting to tear what they rebuilt apart. Everyday seemed to be more about managing Cardassian intolerance to the new way things were done, despite the old way leading to their destruction. “I’ll also be issuing an announcement and talking to the head of the guards. Do not worry about the guard who assaulted you, I’ll deal with him personally.” 

“What about the Federation? Couldn’t they supply protection?” 

“Now there’s something most Cardassians will not put up with.” 

“Well then I hope you mean you’ll kill him.” Ah, there was her cruel underhanded Cardassia served up with all the bluntness of Bajor. The message was indeed clear, _We don’t think you can protect us_. “I don’t want some pissed off 7 foot lizard trying to come after me, he was hard enough to fight off the first time.” She held her handless arm up to drive home the point. 

“Oza, what have I been teaching you? You have to work on your tact.” He sighed rubbing the ridge over his eyes, “I’ll handle it.”

She didn’t look satisfied, but then again she never did. Just as she was about to continue there was a knock at the door of the office. Another young Cardassi-Bajoran, doned in yellow, appeared and politely nodded to Oza before turning to Garak. 

“Castellan, Minister Duzi is here.” Garak studied Oza’s face but she showed no reaction at all. Maybe she was picking up on _some_ of his lessons. 

“Well thank you for your report on the Bajoran settlers Miss Khizat.” Garak switched to a more formal mode which helped Oza pull on her Cardassian face. It pained Garak to see her switch herself off like that but Duzi had proven her hardline Cardassian attitude. She was never openly hostile to the orphans but she did not need to be. She had rubbed them the wrong way with comments about them adopting more Cardassian attitudes and customes while inwardly sneering at anything Bajoran. 

“Good morning Garak, Khizat.” Dzui appeared in the doorway as the secretary left. She was in a long sleeve yellow dress with a box neckline which hid most of her scales, though it hugged her body in a way that on Earth would be considered daring. She had a particularly eye-catching pale blue painted on her _chufa_ and swept into the room with an orchid scented perfume that Garak recognized immediately. Oza clenched her hand behind her back and then released it. 

“Good Morning Minister.” Oza cheerful said as she gathered her bag and PADD to leave. 

“I’m sorry if I interrupted...” Dzui said with feigned concern.

“No no, I was just leaving. Thank you for your time Castellan Garak - please let your _husband_ know that I said hello.” She said with a pointed smile at Garak that was there and gone from her face in a flash. 

“I’ll be sure to relay the message.” Garak nodded.

“You look lovely today Miss Khizat, such a … _creative_ outfit.” Dzui uttered. Oza flicked a look to Garak who squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the worst of the awkwardness would be over when he came back to the room. 

“Thanks,” she said through a fake smile and left. 

“Dzui I-”

“Do you know why I’m here, Garak?” She asked, folding her hands in front of her as she always did when she was ready to challenge him. 

“If I had to guess, it would be the changes to the national address I requested our speech writers to make.”

“You asked them to soften it.”

“I did no such thing. I asked them to represent our own responsibility in the war without the inflammatory option of directly naming names. There may still be people alive on this planet who share those names and they deserve protection.” 

“And there still may yet be those who need to be brought to justice. It would be cathartic for the people to see Archons doing their important work again, wouldn’t it? A sense of order again?” she asked. She tilted her head and smiled. She was always subtly treating their arguments as amusing, even flirtatious. Oza wasn’t the only one to notice. Dzui always stayed just on the other side of proprietary. Her real aim was to keep him off kilter and on the defensive. She knew she was attractive and was well practiced at using that against male Cardassians in her sights.

“Dzui,” he said disapprovingly. “No, the Archons operating as they have in the past would not bring solace to our people. Neither would enabling bands of citizens to prowl the countryside searching for disgraced Guls and Legates.” _Why was everyone so damn blood thirsty this morning?_

“Garak I must-”

“Must you?” It was his turn to rudely cut her off and her face flushed. “My mind is made up Dzui. Cardassia must be focused on moving forward, reconciliation and reconstruction not wallowing in the past and seeking vengeance.”

“Cardassia needs to burn off the blood sucking ticks that threaten it’s rebirth with their treason and their loyalty to the old Cardassia. Some of these people would directly challenge you for power!” 

“Dzui, do you not recall your time as an enemy of the state? It can all be turned around so quickly. The only way to win the game is to stop playing it.” Garak had found himself in this position more and more lately, tempering Dzui’s attitude and voice.

“This is still Cardassia Garak, you need to speak like a Cardassian and lead like one or people will not follow.”

“No. Names.” 

“You are positively maddening.” She replied, a lilt to her voice as if she were either about to laugh or tear her hair out. “They all know the names already you know.” 

“Exactly, no need to stir anything more up. You know you might not be so worried about the ex Obsidian Order agents hiding in the hills and mountains if you moved into Lakarian.” 

“No, I do not want to live in a … Federation dog house. Many of the mountain homes were spared, I had always dreamed of living there before … well.” 

“There is safety in numbers. Plus it would look better to have all the ministers and government in the city.” He used her own love of optics and branding against her but he had made this argument before. She preferred to beam in from a large home supported by a generator she hauled out there herself. He couldn’t fault her, the mountains were a beautiful place to live and the homes there were once reserved for the elite while Lakarian had been a wasteland. 

_A mass grave. Two million Cardassians were incinerated in the blink of an eye, we are standing on their bones._

Dzui would counter that _‘this was sacred ground on which the future of Cardassia grew, watered with the blood of the innocents slaughtered by the evil Dominion_.’ It sounded like something she would slip into one of his public speeches, yet she refused to live here. 

“It’s important for _you_ to live here Castellan, I’ll stick with my mountain hideaway.” She smiled at him disarmingly. “What was Oza’s update?” 

“Problems with the guard, I’ll be addressing it personally.” He knew Dzui would not approve of that, but he ignored her furious look. 

“The problem is their refusal to fully integrate. The boys on the guard are very spirited and I don’t think that is a bad thing, they’ve been doing a fantastic job.” 

“Apparently one of your _spirited_ boys tried to rape Oza last night.” 

“I’m sure it was just a joke, a misunderstanding.”

“You’re trying to cause a fight now,” he said grimly. 

“I’m trying to keep your bleeding heart from jumping to conclusions just because a crippled bajoran orphan looked up at you with sad eyes. Your loyalty needs to be to Cardassia!” She spat out and Garak had to grit his teeth. Dzui had no way of knowing about his condition, or how close she danced to violence, repeatedly. 

“Thank you, Madam Minister,” Garak said, controlling his voice but unable to control the cold tone. “Is that all?” 

  
  


\-----------------------------------------------------------

It was raining again as Julian walked the three blocks from the new hospital to the Federation school. It was almost too hot and humid to breathe. He hated how much he had to wear in this climate, a rich yellow and orange silk long sleeved tunic, long pants, and a scarf draped around his neck to hide his collar bones from roving eyes -like the two Cardassian security guards who followed close behind. His constant companions. He activated his rain shield and splashed along the newly paved street, muddy in places where still empty lots had overflowed into the street. The humidity was oppressive, as always. 

The Federation was a growing presence in this district. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was comforting to see some familiar faces. The new Klingon coffee joint, the Federation school, the identical neat airy houses lined up along the sandy streets waiting for engineers and architects and agricultural experts to end their long days--it was a little slice of home set against the devastation. As the city became more, well, Federation, Julian pulled his scarf off and unbuttoned the shirt collar as much as it would allow. The piece de resistance was bending over and rolling up his pant legs until they were mid calf. When he straightened, he turned his head and gave his attendants a heavy glare over his shoulder, daring them to say or do anything about it.

That didn’t feel like it was working as much as it did when he was initially assigned a guard. Back then he still wore a Federation uniform. Now? He was a Cardassian citizen and mate to the most powerful man on the planet. Still, today had been troubling, well, the last several weeks had been troubling really, but today something was close to snapping. He couldn’t think over the creaking tension around him, the inevitable break written on the faces of the Cardassian and then Federation citizens he saw in the street. He needed to speak to Garak, but he had been coming home so late, and his message earlier that afternoon had gone unanswered. _My husband can get far too immersed in his work,_ he reminded himself. 

The walk was much better now, the heat was lighter and Julian even splashed his sandaled feet in some of thepuddles. It reminded him briefly of monsoon season from his youth, happy giant splashes with no rain shield, joyously soaked. _Take joy where you can, this isn’t some planet, this is home._

He came up to the front of the semi-temporary building serving as the Federation school. There were other schools being set up for Cardassian children throughout the city and countryside, but the Federation had specialized teachers who could handle their son’s Kolem’s case. It was still strange to say, _their son_. He was a fairly recent addition to their family. Kolem was in a special program for war orphans who had a difficult start in life. He must have been about a year old when Cardassia was attacked. No one knew where his family was, but he had been under the care of an elderly woman who claimed at least a dozen additional moon-eyed, hungry children at home.

It was a dreary, rainy day like this one when Kolem came into their lives. He was probably at least three years old when the old woman brought him to the hospital as he was having a seizure. The boy was limp, pale, soaked in sweat and so small. He felt practically weightless in his hands. Julian explained to the woman that Kolem needed to stay overnight. He needed fluids and emergency feeding and perhaps daily medication. She nodded happily in agreement and left without giving a name.

She never returned. After three days of cradling the boy as he regained his strength Julian found it impossible to let him go. His large eyes filled with a heartbreaking fear whenever Julian tried to leave the room. He ended up pulling a cot in the pediatric wing--what was then a field hospital tent--and staying away from home for days. By the time Kolem was ready to be discharged, Julian and Garak were the ones to take him home. Julian insisted on creating a paper trail in case Kolem’s family ever came looking. He would need to be officially adopted, someday. But for the time being, no one was asking too many questions.

Kolem wasn’t just small for his age. He had a list of challenge disorders from his traumatic childhood, as well as delays from being so undernourished. In the Federation, it was well known how to treat children with such struggles, but Cardassians had never done any research on helping broken children thrive. There was never any need. 

The door to the school slid open with a familiar woosh. Inside was just as humid and warm, but at least it wasn’t raining. Childrens’ excited yells echoed off the hard replicated walls. Dr. Khatri, a short woman who Julian thought of as the definition of feisty, was already waiting for him in the office. She was the head of the school and was also the head researcher of Cardassian childhood development. She had a small army of Cardassians working along with her, learning how to put the pieces back together of broken children.

“Dr. Bashir,” she grabbed his hand warmly and immediately directed him into her office. 

“Dr. Khatri, I came as soon as I got your message,” Julian said solemnly. 

“Thank you Doctor. I’m deeply concerned about these requests from the newly appointed Education minister.” Julian sat down across from her and waited as she poured the traditional cup of tea in front him from a new bright teal and yellow pot. 

“The education minister?” They both ignored the obligatory cup of tea in front of them.

“They are requesting very bizarre assessments, and looking for a level of “functionality” assigned to each child.” She did air quotes, she had learned that from him, and slid the message across the desk. His ability to read Cardassian had come a very long way but he had to read the missive over and over to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding. 

“This is very strange.” 

“Want to know what I think?” She snapped, catching Julian by surprise.

“You’ll tell me either way Khatri.” 

“This directly contradicts the Federation standards we have been following since this school's inception and now the Ministry of Education suddenly wants assessments? They want to separate the weak. They are looking at who belongs in the glorious New Cardassia.”

“No it’s - it’s not possible.” 

“It’s a starting point, everyone here knows what this points system means, we automatically recognize what it is - no one in the Federation would know because of our previously closed culture but they’d understand disobeying orders. Once they see this?” She shook her head as she reached into her coat pocket and removed two small leaves from a paper packet before rolling them and packing them between her cheek and gum. Julian made a face. 

“Spare me Doctor. I’m stressed and there are bigger things to worry about. This is the beginning, there is going to be more and more resistance to the Federation. Frankly, it’s premature as hell and I’m probably as shocked as you are. I would have guessed this would happen much later, and I never assumed it would start with the fucking Minister of Education.” 

Julian picked up the letter from her desk. Official seal and all. His husband’s seal.The edict seemed innocent, a count of the children and a description of each one’s needs and abilities on a government created rubric which would assign each child a score. 

“It’s archaic and yes it is wrong, but what if the Ministry is trying to get an idea of the needs of these children and plan for their care and placement in homes? What if they-”

“Julian, they want all students of Cardassian descent transferred out from under Federation care. They are already claiming they can care for these children without any assessment because-” She made an exaggerated hand motion, begging Julian to get to the conclusion to which she had arrived. 

“Because they do not intend to care for these children…” He said quietly.

“Exactly, they think they can just scrap the whole thing and prop up a shell called the Cardassian Children’s Institute and Starfleet won’t know any better.” 

“I’ll talk to Castellan Garak. Tonight.” Julian said with conviction. He’d corner him, stay up all night, hell, stalk him at the office. Julian showing up at the seat of government would be the height of impropriety and as hard as Julian had worked to assimilate for the sake of Garak’s administration, he wouldn’t be a brushed off housewife either. 

Doctor Khatri crushed the leaves in her cheek between her teeth thoughtfully, releasing more of an addictive chemical that helped to relax the Cardassian nervous system. She wasn’t sure if she should say what she was going to say next, but the Chat’kle leaf made the decision for her. 

“Does he still have everything in hand? Garak wouldn’t have allowed this out of his office without consulting you first, that means there are parts of the government that are working without his knowledge...” 

“Khatri - he’ll handle it.” Julian rebuked, he took the cup of now cold tea in front of him and emptied the cup, signalling the meeting was over. 

“Julian, I know he will.” 

______________________________________


	6. Chapter 6

Kolem was happy to see his father had come to gather him early. He eagerly went to find his shoes and coat from his cubby while babbling, still not speaking, but it sounded pleased. He waited with his arms up for Julian to pick him up and set him on his hip. Though Kolem was almost five now he was still small for his age, plus Julian’s enhanced strength meant that he tended to carry him during emotional moments like greetings and partings. Julian squeezed him and righted his own clothing before heading back towards the center of the city, where their home-- and the official residence of the Cardassian Castellan--sat at the center of a large cluster of emerging bureaucratic buildings.

The house was built in traditional Cardassian style, narrow with several attics, basements, and sub-basements. Because of security concerns, the windows were only for show. Inside Julian had installed sunlight-like lights and view screens to recreate the outdoors. It helped, but even at home, they were reminded of the danger they were constantly in while working their hands to the bone to rebuild Cardassia. He was normally happy to see home, but everything felt corrupted today.

Kolem strained in his arms to reclaim his freedom the moment they stepped in the door, and Julian had to get him to focus by singing him a song as he removed muddy shoes. Kolem nodded happily along and hummed, but Julian knew they were reaching the limits of his patience. Their housekeeper, a small, slight young Bajoran-Cardassian woman came in and tickled him. Garak kept her close as one of the brightest of his proteges and one of the only people they could really trust in the capitol. Everyone knew such “housekeeper” was a person of trust among the powerful.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s just been worn out from school lately. I’ll take him this afternoon. I think we could both use some time together.”

“What happened?” she asked, seeing the look on his face. She straightened up, looking up into his eyes. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, just a long day,” he said with a sigh. 

“You do look tired doctor, are you sure you don’t want me to watch him?” 

“No, it’s fine. You deserve a little time off. Thank you,” 

They spent the evening playing mentally enriching games on the floor of one of the closed interior hallways high up in the house. It was one of the few places where the guards felt confident enough to leave them mostly alone and he could pretend, for a little while, that life was just a little simpler than being in a constant tangle of intergalactic politics. Here it was about practicing grasping different shapes, for instance. Defining motor skills and improving muscle tone and memory. Kolem’s setbacks were complicated, but his results of their play together were concrete. By the time Trichir came to get them for dinner, Garak still hadn’t come home or answered his message. He changed into some looser linen clothes, considered provocative in Cardassian society, and stalked into his office. He was fuming and dialed Garak’s direct personal line. Instead of Garak, one of his aides answered the video call. 

“Doctor Bashir, my apologies the Castellan is not-”

“Not available? Where is he and when will he be available then?” Julian knew he was being too obvious with his irritation but damn it, he wasn’t Cardassian. It was an undeniable fact. He was starting to think that was the problem or at least why he was getting the runaround. 

“The Castellan has a very full schedule. I shall tell him to contact you directly,” the patronizing tone was just on the edge of unacceptable. Julian grit his teeth and hung up the video. He was certain to get a talking-to about his  _ tone _ . Fine. He’d stay up all night if he had to. 

When Garak finally walked in the door, Kolem had long been in bed. Julian was used to going through their routine alone at this point, but he was seething about it this time. He knew he was compounding grievances at this point against Garak, but he didn’t care. The main grievance was enough. Garak was exhausted from another 14 hour day and was surprised to still see a light on in Julian’s office. 

“Darling?” Garak said, pushing open the door to Julian’s study. The room was more Federation than any other room in the house. Two computers banks, a few shelves of old books and nick-nacks from his glory days and Julian’s workstation were shoved into the wider part of the room, with an overstuffed leather couch pushed against the wall, covered in books, handwritten notes and PADDs in Julian’s usual untidy way. Julian was wearing a loose green linen shirt he had made him before their lives had become so complicated. His hair was a mess of curls from the humidity. He looked beautiful and provocative in the dim light, even with his arms crossed and fury in his eyes.

“You said you’d be home hours ago,” Julian said. 

“I was unavoidably delayed,” Garaks lust for his husband immediately started to deflate. 

“Did you get my messages?” Julian asked. He had been cooking for a while now. Garak was not ready for a fight at home. The whole day had been battle after battle. But here it was, one last angry exchange for the day.

“I did, I attempted to get away, but it was truly impossible.”   
  


“I’m getting tired of that excuse,” Julian said. “No answer is unacceptable.”

“The affairs of sta-”

“Oh, I don’t give a good goddamn about the state, Garak,” Julian said. Dropping his last name took Garak back a bit. Julian never called him by his last name anymore. 

“We had a crisis on the southern continent that couldn’t wait-” 

“Well, what if we had a crisis here that couldn’t wait?”

“It occurs to me that this is the first time we’ve spoken face to face in days,” Garak said wearily rubbing his temples. 

“Well, that is true, but not why I’m angry,” he said as he stood up and walked towards Garak. “I understand your work is important, don’t I? I don’t ring your bell over nothing. It’s always important. You’re in the building just across the square but I can’t get to you when we really need to talk.”

“Julian, I’m exhausted. I have five hours before I have to get up and do it all again...”

“You and I need to talk,” Julian repeated. He looked serious. Garak reached out to touch his shoulder, but Julian pulled back. “What the  _ hell _ is going on with this new education minister?”

“The who?” Garak was running out of patience, he could at least get ready for bed while having a fight. He walked out of the study and up the stairs, with Julian following closely behind.

“Did you know they’re enforcing a points system?”

  
“ _ My heart _ ,” Garak said. He was lost and had no clue what he was talking about. Garak swung open the door to their bedroom and began taking off the heavy yellow silk clothes that had suddenly begun to weight on him. He wondered briefly if Julian had purposefully decided to wear something designed to distract him during their argument.

“The teachers and researchers at the Federation school are concerned, and they have a good reason. It seems the education minister is implementing practices that directly contradict Federation policies. An assessment for all students based on a points system that seems designed to ferret out the children not good enough for Cardassian society.” 

“We are allowed to have our own way of doing--”

“You’re defending this? I don’t--” Julian was speechless for a moment. “Not at the Federation schools and not in the Federation districts. Do you realize what is happening?”

“You’re jumping to the worst conclusion possible,” Garak sighed. “Do you think I’d ever let anything happen to Kolem?

“No you wouldn’t. But I’m not just worried about Kolem. He’s at least partially protected by the Federation--” 

“He is protected by me. You are protected by me,” Garak said. He was now getting angry. His family didn’t need outsiders to protect them. 

“--I’m worried about the thousands of children just like him across Cardassia, the ones who aren’t protected in Federation schools,” Julian said, stoking Garak’s anger, but he didn’t care. “I know how things were run before the war--”

“We aren’t the Federation Julian. Things work differently here but we are  _ not _ going back to the way things were before the war,” Garak said. 

“How would you know? For fucks sakes, you didn’t even know about the new education minister!” Julian was doing his best to control the level of his voice, but he was losing it. He knew exactly who to blame for all of this, though he knew Garak wouldn’t want to hear it. “I swear, this has Dzui and her little cadre’s bloody fingerprints all over it.” 

“Listen, If I promise to talk to the education minister in the morning and put a stop to this, would that make you happy?” Garak asked.

“No Garak it wouldn’t,” Julian said, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to talk to the minister to make me happy. I want you to do it to make sure Cardassian children, children like  _ your son _ , are safe.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do? What Dzui, for all her faults, is trying to do?”

“They are burying you in work so you don’t see what they’re actually doing,” Julian whispered, shaking his head. “You’ve spent so much time worrying about being the Federation’s useful idiot you didn’t see when your own people around you did the same thing.”

“Julian, I’ve had enough of this. You talked me into taking this position and yet here you are, still a Federation citizen, harping on everything you don’t like. This is Cardassia, not Earth or Deep Space Nine. You can’t have it your way,” Garak growled, and immediately regretted it. He had an inkling Julian was overreacting, but he wasn’t wrong on a few counts. The hurt on his husband’s face cut through him, but what was said was said. Sleep, the one thing Garak needed most in the world, would be practically impossible now. 

“I am reminded, constantly, that I am an outsider here and always will be. I don’t need to hear it from you,” Julian said. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from Garak. “Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m doing here…”

“Don’t say that. I’m sorry for it all Julian.”

“I don’t want a blanket apology. I do still believe you are the one meant to lead Cardassia. But me? Your former-Federation officer human mate? What am I but a millstone around your neck and a target for your enemies?” he said. No time like the present, especially after being reminded by his own husband he doesn’t belong on Cardassia.

“You knew this was going to be hard, you knew how my people are Julian. Did you think a couple of years of Federation occupation was going to change this world into a human paradise?”

“ _ Occupation _ ? Occupation. Ha, well, that settles it, I need a break from all of this and you - you need some fucking perspective.” Julian got up, snatching his pillow off the bed, a sure sign that he was headed to the spare bed in Kolem’s room. When the boy had first come to them he had had night terrors and sometimes seizures but neither Julian or Garak had slept there in months, maybe a year. 

“Julian don’t-” Garak could hear the pleading in his voice but Julian cut him off.

“Goodnight Castellan.” 

Garak stood alone in their room for a moment, furious at himself, at Cardassia, at the Federation. Pick a target. He was nearly in a haze, frenzy dancing around his head, when his eyes landed on his PADD from earlier, with the identity of the guard who had assaulted Oza. He called the Commandant, not the Chief Commandant as he would be in bed at this hour, and the viewscreen lit up with an uneasy Cardassian face. 

“Castellan Garak, we’re surprised you’d contact us so late-” 

“I want this man - basement two. Let him know he is wanted for assaulting a war orphan, you make sure his friends hear you. If he resists, use force but stop short of killing him. His entire unit is to be punished but I want him personally. I’ll be there in half an hour.” He sent the Guard’s identification information with a flick of the wrist and watched the other man take in the information. 

“Y-yes Castellan.” The Commandant looked worried like he wasn’t sure if he should obey Garak’s direct orders - or maybe he was scared. Garak had slipped into full rage without noticing, far too gone now to think to medicate himself out of it. The black of his pupils had swallowed up his normally brilliant blue eyes and his neck and shoulder ridges were completely dark. He would never admit it but he had slipped purposefully. If he were to keep Julian he would have to act far more Cardassian than he was willing to admit to the idealistic human. He would inspire fear and bend Cardassia to his will, that was the only way to keep Julian close. It would start tonight with beating a man to death with his bare hands.

_______

Garak was already gone by the time Julian wrestled Kolem through his morning routine. Luckily, today’s color was green, Kolem’s favorite. It took him half an hour to carefully choose his outfit and then he pointed at all the people wearing the same shade of deep green as his own vest as they left the neighborhood into town. Julian made the same modifications to his clothing he made the day before when he reached the Federation district. It was already nearly 32 Celsius and 90 percent humidity. Another beautiful, sticky, and dim day on Cardassia Prime and he was happy to be rid of his scarf and long pants. Kolem’s favorite teacher greeted them outside the building and took Kolem’s hand to lead him inside for the day. Julian smiled as he walked away with the only other person in the world who Kolem would allow to hold his hand and reminded himself that he was safe.

He turned down the road towards the hospital, gray and gold in the murky alien morning. The hospital stood high against the skyline, it’s only equal was the government office directly across town. If Julian turned around in the middle of this road he would see a straight shot through downtown to the only other building over three stories high - Garak’s office. 

Maybe Garak was right. Julian felt he had put up with a lot over the last five years or so of living on Cardassia,  _ of course, _ he knew it would be difficult attempting to find a place in a xenophobic society, in fact he may never feel at home here. The push back Garak received for having a human mate made his transition to power much harder than it had to be, maybe that's why Julian had silently suffered with a smile. He assimilated where he could in his everyday dress and social customs, he was even known to choke down a glass of kanar at important state dinners. It would never be enough. Cardassian society was stifling, even among the educated middle class with whom they enjoyed the most support, and Julian didn’t particularly want to fit in anymore. Maybe he had been too much of a, what did he call Elim last night?  _ A useful idiot.  _

What a mess. 

Julian wanted to apologize, to send Garak a message but after last night’s fiasco, he couldn’t bear it. They needed to have a proper discussion but Julian knew that was unlikely to happen. He sulked most of the day, noticeably flagging under the previous night's altercation. He hadn’t seen Garak in days and the first thing he did was start a fight?

When he went to pick up Kolem he found that he had already been picked up by Garak according to the school’s teachers.

“Garak...you’re sure…” 

“I’m pretty sure I’d recognize the Castellan, and Kolem wouldn’t have gone with anyone else but him so I think he checks out.” He said with a sweet smile. 

“Huh…” Julian stepped out of the school and used his transporter to get home immediately. He preferred the walk through town but that was when Kolem was with him and not when something strange was going on. 

“Elim? Kolem?” Julian called as he stepped into their home. To his great surprise, Garak was in their kitchen, cooking dinner with Kolem laying on the floor wearing his noise canceling headphones to muffle the triggering sounds of cooking. 

“ _ My heart _ , I’m so glad you are home,” Garak crouched down next to Kolem and got his attention, pointing out that Dadda was home without startling him. Kolem noticed Julian’s entrance and then went back to scratching crayons across a page. 

“What’s going on?”

“I took care of my work early today and picked Kolem up, I hope that’s alright.” 

“Yeah -it’s wonderful... a message would’ve been nice…” 

“I’ll remember that in the future.”

“Where is Linae?” Julian asked, looking around for the housekeeper. 

“Gave her the night off. You’ll be pleased to know that the Education Minister was removed today and his orders rescinded.” Garak said, making his way back to the kitchen to finish dinner while Julian greeted Kolem. 

“That’s all wonderful, all of this is wonderful, how did you get away?” 

“I spent the night getting my priorities straight and now I feel like a new man.” Garak was telling the truth after all. That’s exactly what happened, just not in the way Julian probably imagined and he would dissuade Julian of those notions.

“I’m glad to hear it, it’s good to have you here.” Julian admitted as Garak handed him a plate to set on the table, “We really need to talk about last night... after dinner. 

“Of course, but for now, let’s just enjoy each other's company.” Garak said, pressing his hand against Julian’s palm before gathering their son to get ready for dinner.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, I done fucked up last chapter and posted a big chunk of the previous chapter if that makes sense. Go back and read the last chapter if you clicked the last update and was like "wtf I just read dis" that's why. Many apologies.

Another humid morning, another walk through town. Julian dropped off Kolem and turned to head towards the hospital. He was troubled, turning over the last months in his mind. Garak had suddenly become available, suddenly, and seemed to have shrugged off being a workaholic like it was nothing. But then he started disappearing at night. When Julian finally confronted him he admitted he was working but would not say on what or with who. Oza was around a lot more, as was Linae, especially in the early morning. 

This put him in a bind as he had received an encrypted message from Sloan. The message boiled down to “What the hell is going on over there?” The use of an expletive in a coded message was extra troubling, he had to have gone through the effort to add that kind of flair. Worse still, he had no way of answering him back or telling Garak that the Federation was sending him coded secret messages. 

He was distracted, he’d chide himself later, thinking about these things when something hard and fast connected with the side of his face. Luckily his cheek and orbital bones took the majority of the impact, fracturing but absorbing enough force to save his skull. The surprise attack caused Julian to stumble and before he hit the ground hands pulled him back. He tried to turn on his attackers but he could feel at least three pairs of Cardassian hands holding him down, no matter how hard he fought he could not wriggle loose.

“Hey there  _ ape-son _ ,” one of his attackers cooed into his ear from behind, “Still think Cardassia is The Federation?” There were a few bemused chuckles from behind him as they ground his face into the rough exterior of the building. “Listen closely, you are not welcome here. Your traitor, alien-fucker Castellan is not welcome here. Cardassia is for Cardassians. Not Bajorans, not half breeds, not defects, and certainly not a  _ prUt _ warmer like you. Leave. We’re watching.” There was a hand pressed between his shoulder blades, fingers spread wide but not hard enough to harm him, someone was making a handprint on his back. 

Moments later, it felt like hours, footsteps came running from the other side of the alley. He was released immediately and his assailants fled. He lifted his head to see the soles of their shoes as they ran away, one of his personal guards giving chase while the other kneeled down beside him. Same boots. He pulled him upright, resting his back against the wall, surveying the damage. His face was bruised and bloody, bruises were already forming around his wrist where the Cardassian had restrained him, his eye was quickly swelling shut, and a medium-sized gash on his forehead was bleeding like crazy as even superficial head wounds will do.

“Do you want to go to work?” was the only thing the Cardassian said - of course he meant the hospital, but the guard sounded annoyed with this complication.

“No, no. I’ll - I’ll transport home.” Julian’s voice shook. He didn’t want to be around his apparently useless guard or anyone from the hospital, or any Cardassian faces. He had the tools to treat himself there and no one had to know about the attack. 

“That would be safest.” The guard practically smirked at him. They had been trying to get Julian to give up walking Kolem to school and himself to the hospital each day. The guard looked him over one more time and helped him to his feet. 

“Wipe that goddamn smile off your face, do you have any idea how badly you’ve failed today?” Julian’s voice still shook but he was firm. The guard’s face fell. “I should parade your failure through the streets, when the Castellan hears about this…” Julian muttered as he summoned the transporter. He wasn’t sure but he thought he saw real fear on the guard’s face for invoking Garak’s power. 

Julian arrived home, practically holding his head together, and found Garak in yesterday's clothes in their living room. It looked like he had been sleeping on the couch when he came in and startled fully awake when he saw his bleeding mate standing in front of him. 

“What? What happened?” 

“Get the med kit from-” but Julian didn’t need to finish, Garak knew what he needed and where it was and returned a moment later to find him bleeding on the couch. 

“Who did this?” Garak’s heart thundered in his ears so loudly he didn’t hear the unbridled rage dripping from the words. He thought he was done with that side of him for the day. He had satiated his brutality in the small hours of the morning but now he was jolted from completely asleep to full bloodlust. Julian scrutinized him before loading a hypospray with pain killers and administering it to himself. 

“I was attacked in the streets by, well I guess they were The Red Hand.” 

“What?!” In response Julian turned, a red hand print stood out against the grass green of his tunic, right between his shoulders. 

“They said that we weren’t welcome on Cardassia, in some colorful ways. They were extremist to be sure, but they weren’t like the older hardliners in the mountains - they were younger, much stronger.” Julian took care of closing the head wound first so he wouldn’t have blood in his eyes as he used the regenerators to knit the bone and skin back together. 

“And your Guard?” Garak was at a level of anger that was terrifying. His pupils swallowed his eyes completely and his face was locked into a fake grin, teeth clenched and grinding on one another. 

“Apparently I was snatched into an alleyway and they lost track of me?” 

“Unlikely…” his head cocked to the side, an unnerving move that made him look like the violent animal he actually was. 

“Unlikely? Alright, your turn, what’s going?” Julian deftly switched the regenerator from his hands for a hypospray he kept hidden in the palm of his hand.

“What do you mean?” He was still speaking through clenched teeth, his fist balled uptight. Julian took the opportunity to land the emergency hypospray, full of mood stabilizers and anti-anxiety medication that he kept for just such an occasion, directly into his husband’s neck. He hissed and smacked Julian’s hand away, it didn’t matter, he had stuck his landing and the medication would at least take the edge off.

“Look you can be mad about this but you can’t be so mad you aren’t even able to hold a conversation with me.” Julian’s pain medication was kicking in and he was taking in more of Garak’s disheveled appearance, still in his blue clothing from the day before. “Listen, when the guard chased the attackers, they were all wearing the exact same combat boots.” 

“Linae?” Garak called out and the half Bajoran, half Cardassian appeared, dressed in clothing closer to that of a soldier. Her  _ chufa  _ was painted but instead of the alluring blue that Cardassian’s loved her  _ chufa _ was painted dark red. Suddenly, sweet Linae had been transformed from the nurturing housekeeper who struggled through Kolem’s bathtime to a gorilla fighter. 

“Shit,” she said when she saw the doctor’s face. “What the hell happened?” 

“Get Kolem, get changed first, call Oza, then go get Kolem, as fast as you can child go go go.” Garak shouted, she gave Julian another worried look and jogged off to her quarters. “I truly wish you had not medicated me my dear- I will need all my strength for what is coming.” 

“What is coming? What IS coming?” Julian felt a throb of pain from his neglected orbital bone, he blindly searched for the regenerator. 

“The guard, as it turns out, isn’t loyal to me. I discovered something the last time you stayed in Kolem’s room. I was … interrogating a guard who had attempted to assault Oza.”

“Interr- Elim-what are you saying?” Julian’s brow crinkled as he strained to believe what he was hearing.

“Something had to break my dear, I just happened to break first. They weren’t expecting that.” 

“Did you torture a guard to death?” Julian shouted, rising from the couch, propelled to his feet by fury. 

“I fired the first shot in a coming war!” Garak roared in response. The medication may help but he was still the same destroyed man who had come apart quietly behind his mate’s back. He couldn’t hope to shield Julian from the shrapnel, only assess the damage when the smoke cleared - assuming everyone was still standing of course. 

“Answer me straight! Stop sidestepping me Elim and tell me what is going on.” 

“The Red Hand are here Julian, here,” he yelled back. It had been a pleasant few months anyway, he had felt closer to Julian and the guilt of his secret had started to gnaw at him. It would be better this way he told himself. “They are everywhere and they probably always have been. I was being used by them to get Federation assistance and we were all going to be eliminated once the Federation was forced far enough out. I had to do something-”

“So you unleashed a campaign of terror? And kept all of this from me?” Julian looked directly at Garak, tears in his eyes, “You sneak out, of our bed, our home, in the middle of the night to torture and kill and you just come home and … you make dinner and...” Julian could feel the tears really threatening to turn into sobs. To hold on to his dignity, he swallowed a breath and held it. This was no longer a man with which he could be vulnerable. 

“And if I had told you? What would I have heard? Hm? A morality speech on Federation ethics that do not exist here? Julian this is Cardassia, I had to start acting like a Cardassian to regain control. They were right, I had become too human. I can see you don’t understand that, and you might never understand that. I will have to do bad things to make some good out of this.” He wasn’t making sense even to himself and cursed Julian’s sedative. The frenzy offered a kind of reliable clarity. “I think - I think you and Kolem should get off-world.” Garak couldn’t meet Julian’s gaze, the betrayal bored into him. “Things are going to get worse before they get better. You both should go.” Julian stood frozen in place for a moment, doubting this was real, before leaving the room towards their bedroom without a word. 

Garak could hear him call for a shuttle and then the furious opening and slamming of drawers. A few moments later he stalked into their son’s room, rummaging through toy boxes and bedclothes, ensuring that the things vital to Kolem’s happiness were squared away. He could only imagine what this would do to him, to lose another home and parent. More anger.  _ Good _ . Julian thought,  _ use that anger, it's justified and it’s all yours. _ He heard more voices coming from the living room and bristled at having to share space with anyone at this unbearable moment. He locked his door and pulled the bloodied tunic off, finally getting to see the dark red handprint on the back. He balled it up and threw it in the corner before pulling on some Federation civilian clothing in whatever goddamn color he pleased. 

When he emerged with the bags, half a dozen heavily armed war orphans were very surprised to see him. Most of these young adults were only small children when they were brought to Cardassia, with Julian acting as a pediatrician for many of these local orphans. Some sheepishly played with their weapons, wishing desperately to hide from the disapproving and clearly pissed off gaze of the good doctor. Oza and Linae were standing with Kolem between them and he immediately flew to Julian’s side, pressing his tear-stained face into his father’s legs. 

Garak came in from the front door and gathered the bags Julian had packed and started bringing them out to a private shuttle that had just been dropped off. The chauffeur was already gone, Julian refused to dwell on where. All those children. No, they were children when Garak had what, recruited them? Trained them? Linae and Oza were singing songs, trying to console Kolem as he fought to stay in the house, screaming hysterically. The haze of pain medication and shock was still on Julian and he just felt tired, exhausted from the last six years of fighting every day to live. And it was all of his fault. He had trusted the Federation, Garak, hell, even Sloan to some degree. 

_ Useful idiot _

Julian picked Kolem up and threw him over his shoulder and held tight. He couldn’t bear to look at Linae or Oza, or any of the faces watching the drama unfold. Garak stood by the open doors of the shuttle with his head bowed, hands behind his back. 

“This may be the last time we see each other,” Julian said. Garak lifted his eyes to look into his mate’s, They were raw from tears, one still half swollen and turning purple. They stood for a moment looking at one another with no ability to communicate. Garak reached up and touched Julian’s face. His expression hardened but he did not pull away. Tears hung expectantly around his eye lids but he wouldn’t allow it. He turned away without another word and walked into the shuttle. 

What could he say? What good would it do now? 

Garak stood and watched until he could no longer make the shuttle out in the atmosphere. Oza was suddenly by his side and touched his shoulder gently. 

“Castellan, we just got word the Dzui is on her way to the capitol.” 

“Take up positions. Bring our forces online and tell them to standby. I’ll meet with her here.” He commanded, still looking at the sky as if he could bring them back. He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to Kolem. Damn Julian for medicating his rage, now he had to go into this meeting with Dzui with a broken heart instead of filled with furry. Damn him for his ideals and humanity. Damn him for making Garak love him so much. 


	8. Chapter 8

Earth. Safe blue ball flying around a medium sized and forgettable sun. Julian didn’t have many choices of where to run to when he left Cardassia. It was far too dangerous to go to DS9 and he wouldn’t want to put Kira in any danger by bringing this mess to her Bajoran front door. Here he had security he knew he could trust to a point. Just like last time when he arrived, it was night and Sloan was there to greet him. This time however he had an exhausted Kolem clinging desperately to his chest, making repeated shrieking sounds in an effort to self soothe. Julian was destroyed, still in shock. He had maybe three hours of sleep in five days and he had no ability to continue. Sloan recognized it immediately, the face of a refugee nearing exhaustion, and silently helped him with his bags, escorting them both to the O’Brien home in  Tochigi prefecture, Japan. 

It was a strange ride to be sure. The pawn was facing the king with what he had done. Sloan didn’t look at him, stared straight ahead but Julian couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He was waiting, waiting for what he didn’t know. An apology? That would be meaningless, hollow, not worthy of acknowledgement. An explanation? He knew what had happened, he was there. He watched the wool get pulled over everyone’s eyes. A plan? Yes, a plan. 

_ How are you going to undo the damage you’ve caused me? _

Their house was very modern, clean lines and the type of elegant minimalism that was popular here. It was clear, however, that Keiko had other ideas. Two large green chambers rose behind the house- green houses with closed atmosphere pumps to ensure the growing conditions of other worlds. Every square inch of soil was claimed and, though it was the beginning of autumn, brimming with color and life. Her garden was more in line with the voluptuous unruly English gardens of a more romantic era. It was cool and welcoming with a smattering of brilliant red and gold leaves beginning to fall from the nearby trees. Julian was ready to lay down in the garden and just sleep there. The door flew open, spilling yellow light across the doorstep as Keiko and Miles emerged, pulling on sweaters and coats as they rushed to the vehicle. 

“Julian! Julian, Julian…” Keiko repeated his name over and over like it was a good luck charm, holding him tight and rocked back and forth. When she released him she took Kolem into her arms as Miles engulfed him. 

“We are so happy you’re both here and safe,” He squeezed harder and Julian felt trapped, for a moment he felt like he was going to scream but O’Brien withdrew in time and he sighed with relief. 

“We are too, believe me, it was… it was close.” 

“We know, we’ve been following the news- what little there is of it. Come inside, it’s cold, we’ve got some hot tea ready and warm beds for everyone.” Miles said, putting his arm around Julian’s shoulders steering his fatigued comrade into the house. Sloan’s presence was all but ignored. He handed Julian a PADD and then got back in the vehicle, headed who knows where. The PADD alerted and he saw a message from his parents.  _ Nope. _ Julian dropped the PADD on the first flat surface he saw in the house. They went to bed, Julian curled around Kolem as if they were still trying to sleep on a small transport ship cot. 

The next day Julian was able to peel himself from Kolem to join Miles for breakfast. Miles broke two quail eggs into a steaming pile of sushi rice and soy sauce before mixing it and gobbling it down while Julian replicated a muffin and a raktajino. 

“Where’s Keiko?” 

“Already gone, she gets an early start - or a late one, she’s teaching in Europe right now so our schedules are pretty at odds.” 

“That’s always so hard.” 

“It is, but you get used to it.” 

“I didn’t, I gave Garak hell for being absent, that night I pushed him too far. I think, I don’t know how much I should be revealing to you.” Julian laid his head on the table. 

“What happened?” 

“I was attacked in the streets by guards, apparently that was the beginning of a much larger conflict that I knew nothing about.” 

“Sounds like Cardassia alright.” Miles said, picking out the last bits of rice from the ceramic bowl. 

“We fought, and then Garak got us off the planet. I haven’t heard anything else.” Julian had tried. He had sent encrypted messages on private channels, blasted broadwave coded messages, if there was such a thing as an interplanetary postal service he would’ve sent a letter. It wouldn’t matter, no communications out of or into Cardssia and no one had been permitted to land or leave. The quiet was a terrible, all encompassing, thunder. Julian suddenly had an image of his father looking for his name among the list of the dead. His eyes glanced over to the table by the door. Sloan’s PADD was unmoved. 

“What did you fight about?” 

“He was keeping this all from me, it had been building and building and he didn’t want me to know what kind of danger we were actually in and- and what he was doing to take control of the situation. “ 

“What was he doing?” Miles asked and Julian finally felt it all crash against him and his walls crumbled. Kolem was safe, he was safe, it was time to grieve. Garak was lost, either dead or too far gone into the well of power to be redeemable. 

“Maybe I’ll be able to tell you some other time.” He groaned into his hands. This was Miles - his best friend, but also someone with a complex history with Cardassians. Not complex really until Garak was foisted upon him. And Miles had tried to warn him, was scared for him, fought for him against what he thought was the ultimate enemy and it turns out he was right, all along. Garak put so many faces Julian wondered if he had ever met the real man.

He glanced briefly at O’Brien’s concerned face, clenched his eyes shut, and spilled the entire story. Hell, it wasn’t anything surprising. If Sloan was listening, and he undoubtedly was, this was just another piece that clarified the murky situation. It wouldn’t be news, just detail, and it felt good. It felt wonderful to get it out. When he was finished he glanced back at Miles who was just nodding silently, looking off into the corner. 

“Do you know why he was executing people?” 

“What?”

“Do you know his reasons? Look-” O’Brien held his hand out, halting Julian’s frustrated response. “- Garak is a ruthless man, who rules ruthless men. Cardassia is not the Federa-”

“I know that!” What was happening? This conversation was quickly going somewhere he didn’t expect and now his voice was raised. “When did you get on his side?” 

“When he joined your side! We can’t assume that Cardassian’s will ever not have a cloak-and- daggers society, it’s who they are. Hell, the Klingons still do all kinds of unFederation stuff- they still put people to death over honor Julian! But you don’t see the Federation making a big deal about it, cause it’s not our society.” 

“Cardassia is my society! We were supposed to be building something better!” 

“When you cultivate a garden, you don’t leave the weeds.” 

“Unbelievable. Miles,” Julian said with a tone that said he was about to shame him for his unfathomable stupidity, “If Keiko was making you dinner, playing with your children, fucking you, telling you she loves you, then pretending to go to bed only to sneak out and “interrogate” her political enemies - would you stay with her when you found out?”

“If she was a Cardassian? I guess I’m trying to say my opinion of them hasn’t changed all that much- they are killers, and I know Garak enough to know he doesn’t like suffering, but revenge? Protection? Especially the two of you?” 

“So you think I should’ve stayed.” 

“Absolutely not, there is still a good chance Garak will lose this fight and you and Kolem would’ve been slaughtered.” Miles flatly replied, “I’m saying don’t make any decisions, don’t lose hope, not yet.” He got up, coffee cup in hand and patted his shoulder, “And call your mother, I don’t know how she got my information but she’s driving me mad.” 

Julian smiled bitterly and watched his friend head out the door for work. 

_______________________________________________________________

When Garak said he would meet Dzui “here” he was talking about the exact spot he had last seen his family as they flew out of his life - hopefully to safety. A thick ionic sphere encapsulated the atmosphere sending ripples of color across the sky. 

“Oza, bring me the bottle of kanar in my office.” 

“I know the one.” 

“Three glasses, you’ll be joining us.” he said grimly. “How long now Linae?” 

“An hour, maybe two.” 

“I need you to replicate a stimulant for me, right away.” She turned into the house saying nothing and returned with a hypospray and placed it on his neck. He felt a familiar rush behind his eyes.. 

Oza and Linae left Garak alone to stare up at the artificial Northern Lights his ion screen had created to begin coordinating agents. Initial movements had already begun. Most of the guards had been assassinated by independent cells in positions throughout the city with minimal losses, it should help remove some of Dzui’s forces from at least the heart of the city. The problem would ultimately be the mountains, her strong hold. 

Oza soon appeared back at his side, carrying her the bottle of kanar and three glasses dangling between her fingers, taking up her place next to him. They could see Dzui’s vehicle winding its way towards the house from their position and Oza lifted her the sealed bottle in salute 

“Here’s to the beginning of a terrible thing.” Garak said. 

“Here’s to the end of a terrible thing,” she corrected him as Dzui came into the neighborhood. “She didn’t even attempt to transport in?” 

“She knew what was coming, if she had been in phase when the screen went up, she would’ve been sent right back to her home and would need to drive in anyway but with no head start.” 

“But our surprise attack-”

“Not really a surprise I am afraid. There are more forces in the city of which we are unaware. More than just the guard. Linae?” The young woman appeared in the doorway, “Move to phase two immediately. The list of loyal ministers is on the desk, the rest are to be imprisoned here in the basements.”

“Even Dzui?” Oza replied with a wry smile over her shoulder, entering the house to greet the wolves at the door.

“If she allows herself to be arrested, I’d be very disappointed,” Garak replied, rolling his neck and shoulders as Dzui finally pulled up. He dropped his breathing to send tendrils of his awareness out to the figures emerging on the other side of the wall. Four, including Dzui, all armed. They hesitate at the door when they see the four heavily armed war orphans, Oza opens the door. Garak wished he could see Dzui’s sour, furious face, wished he could see that smile Oza adopted recently of superiority, of assured victory. Garak could feel his snipers reaching out with their own extrasensory abilities around him. He had to suppress a proud smile and tried to focus on managing the chemical war in his head for the upcoming verbal spar. 

“Garak - what is the meaning of all of this?” Dzui said to his back. Garak rolled the glass in his hand and let out an annoyed huff.

“That’s how you are going to play this Dzui? You really must think poorly of me if you think feigning ignorance will work at this point.” He turned away from the sky, nodding to the bottle and empty glasses. Oza broke the seal and poured the kanar. The kanar was deep and dark, with a red sheen that betrayed its origins, distilled on Bajor - this was war kanar. The message wasn’t lost on Dzui and she held her kanar untasted, a truly impolite and uncouth move for someone in her position. Garak bristled inwardly but remained calm. 

“Alright, fine. Castellan Garak, you are unfit for office, I am demanding that you step down... or be removed.” Dzui swaggered, confidence high on the eve of battle, annoyed that Garak was going to drag her out into open confrontation. 

“Minister Duzi, I deny your request and I, in turn, charge you with treason and demand you submit to arrest. Drop your weapons.” He said with a laugh, they both smiled at each other like they were ready to tear each other apart with their bare hands. The back and forth was merely a formality, hostilities would be open after this meeting and the real fight would begin.

“You knew it would come to this.” Dzui said, swirling the untasted kanar out of careless habit. 

“I had a feeling.” 

“Always plan for the double-cross.” 

“Always.” The three guards Dzui brought fell dead around her, the snipers having done their work. The disruptor blast meant for Dzui passed harmlessly through her, causing her figure to ripple in the wake of the energy beam.

“Trying to assassinate me during the opening of the conflict? Poor taste.” 

“I wouldn’t go on and on about Cardassian traditions around war if I were you. Your refusal of the kanar was enough of an insult to warrant execution.” 

“It would only be an insult if you were a true Cardassian.” She dashed the glass against the stones in front of her, neither Oza or Garak reacted, instead choosing stoney faced silence to meet her tantrum. “I’m only here as a warning to you Garak, drop the shield and leave now - save your skin... before I come to peel it off of your still twitching corpse.” 

“No. I will stay and fight for a better Cardassia, even if it means the end of my life..but hopefully it will merely mean the end of yours.” Garak lifted the glass with a smile. Dzui looked furious as she turned off the hologram and disappeared from the courtyard, a holo emitter clamoring on the stones. From their spot in the courtyard, from the only piece of raised land for miles, they saw the streets light up as phaser and disruptor fire began in the dark streets. 


End file.
